In This Life
by Darkestforever
Summary: Hiroki x Nowaki Story If fate cruelly stole your life and everything you were, would you have the strength to fight win all you lost back? Genres: Romance, Drama and Spiritual
1. Prologue

**Title: In This Life**

**By DarkestForever**

**Beta Read by Tantotat**

Rating: T (at most)

Genre: romance/drama/ character death/rebirth/yaoi

Summary: If fate cruelly stole everything you had; would you have the strength to fight to win it all back?

Disclaimer: All characters and rights of the Junjou Romantica world belong to Shungiku Nakamura and her publishers Blu. This fanfiction is written with no intention of earning any royalties or money. It is for the sole purpose of free enjoyment for the junjou romantica fangirls and boys like myself who are killing time until manga volumes 11 and 12, or another series of the Anime appears on our screens. All chapter titles are suggestive music titles that influenced my inspiration for the direction of this story and are the property of the artists who took the time to write and record them. All sourced through appropriate purchases through Itunes, please support the artists. All quotes are from the some of the great minds and inspirational people, please do check out these words of wisdom.

The only part of this story I claim are the characters created outside of the Junjou Romantica and the plotline that features in this story.

Other works based on events of this story are in the work so please look out for _**Junjou Terrorist story: All Those Yesterdays **_and _**J**__**unjou Romantica story: Both Sides of Now**_ in the near future.

Any questions please don't hesitation to get in touch.

**Prologue: The Last Night on Earth (Delta Goodrem)**

May you live a thousand years, and I, a thousand less one day;

So that I might never know the world without you.

~Hungarian Proverb~

Kamijou Hiroki had a secret fetish.

He loved to watch his lover sleep. His dark-haired lover slumbered peacefully, unaware of Hiroki's gaze. Dark brown eyes studied the half-naked form beneath the covers; he appreciated the fine god-like form and beautiful, kind face his young lover possessed. The only imperfections were the dark rings of exhaustion circling under his lover's closed eyes. Nowaki had been working the nightshift at the hospital for the last week; he collapsed into bed minutes before Hiroki had to get up to prepare for the day ahead. In a week they had barely spoken or spent time together, save for the brief morning embrace that his lover insisted on having before resigning himself to the world of dreams. Where, no doubt, he was dreaming of romantic nonsense.

Picking up his satchel, Hiroki unclipped the front and peered inside for a moment before reaching in to remove the wrapped package. He half-smiled as he quietly placed the package on the bedside table. A note, carefully folded in half, accompanied the package - an important message for his lover. Today was the day: Kusama Nowaki's life was going to change. This Valentine's Day, there were more than just chocolate surprises waiting.

Bending down, Hiroki brushed a few tousled locks of hair out of his lover's face. He was so immensely proud of his lover, Nowaki having achieved so much in the last eight years. Though it had not been the easiest road, Hiroki would not change their journey; after eight years, he was coming to realise that finding even fleeting happiness in this world was difficult. His pride might prevent him from demonstrating the depths of his feelings on a regular basis, but when the gestures came, he knew that Nowaki understood how special they were. He knew how much he was cherished and loved despite the constant abuse he tolerated from his Hiro-san, who was not the easiest person to love.

Straightening, he stared at his lover once more. The ruffled, sleeping form of his lover was almost too tempting to leave, but Hiroki knew that later there would be plenty of time to enjoy reacquainting himself with his lover. Their Valentine's Day reunion had great promises of pleasure.

If only he had known what lay ahead, he would have made sure to kiss his lover goodbye. He would have whispered to Nowaki those most important words that he would later regret not having said enough.

* * * * *

At a quarter to six, Hiroki locked up his office, irritated at the amount of hormones haunting the halls of university. Every class he taught had been full of lovey-dovey students, chocolate and love notes circling the rooms. The lack of intelligent answers in his class had tested his patience beyond its limits. Chalk bouncing off heads had failed to deter the daydreamers from their romantic notions. Worse still, the 'love-bug' had enraptured his colleagues, too!

Giggles coming from under Miyagi's office told him just to keep walking. Bidding farewell to Miyagi was pointless, for the reason that he was too involved in being molested by his younger lover. Hiroki hesitated for a moment, as a message's arrival jiggled in his pocket. Fishing out his phone, he flipped open the cover; a passing female student received the shock of her life as the 'Demon' looked happy for a moment. Satisfied by the message's contents, he swung his bag over his shoulder, and continued on his way. He had an important date.

What Kamijou Hiroki did not know was that fate had an important date for him to keep; as he hurried to meet his lover, the countdown accelerated. As he reached the front gate of the University, the wheels of destiny began to turn. Pulling up his coat collar, he cursed himself for leaving his umbrella behind in his office. Glancing at his watch, he opted to risk the weather. He only had twenty minutes before his date. Despite the emotional armor behind which he hid his feelings, Hiroki was truly eager to see his lover. Words weren't necessary to show how much he missed Nowaki when he worked nights. Their brief embraces and desperate kisses conveyed the ache they felt. Nights like this meant so much.

Bolting through the park, Hiroki dashed through the torrents of rain. Irked at the weather, he missed the rumbling that echoed across the sky. Emerging close to the shopping centre, he weaved in between the shoppers. Happy couples wandering under umbrellas, sharing romantic evenings together.

He stopped at the lights, and stood waiting for them to change. A woman drew up beside him, holding a small gift bag. She smiled at him as he quirked an eyebrow at the extreme patterns on the bag. She groaned briefly, only to blush as he quirked eyebrow at the strange noise. She pointed at her slightly rounded stomach with a smile. Pregnant, Hiroki guessed. Family.

Her phone rang, breaking their shared gaze.

Family.

The thought stuck in his mind.

Family.

He wondered how Nowaki would react.

Lost in thought, he began to cross the road as the light changed. Half aware of the world's goings-on around him. He missed the confused features of the crowd as the echoing din approached. The pregnant woman stepped off the pavement after him crossing the road, her chattering distracting her.

Unseen to the world, two destinies converged…

The sirens screamed loudly.

Squeals of tires caught his attention; glancing left, Hiroki saw the speeding car and flashing lights. The blood in his veins froze as the car skidded on the wet road surface…

…The woman behind him screamed…

…Spinning on his heel, he reacted on impulse…

…In a blur of action… two figures disappeared from view, out of the blinding headlights… a dull thud rang out… screeches… smashing of glass and crunching of metal.

A deathly silence.

In a heartbeat, several destinies changed forever.

Pain shot through every fiber of his being, as Hiroki attempted to push himself up. Trembling, one arm collapsed under him with a sickening crunch. Fresh waves of torturous pain causing him to grit his teeth together to stop himself from crying out. Testing his other arm, he managed to rise up on one elbow that seemed uninjured. He looked up to see the pregnant woman breathing rapidly in front of him. He was about to ask her if she was hurt, when he noticed her face. A look of stark horror was written across her features. Blinking, he wondered what was wrong.

Words froze on his lips, as he understood why.

The puddle before him was red… red with blood.

The rain started coming down hard, he noticed. Brushing his tongue over his dry lips, Hiroki turned back to the pregnant woman as she crawled close to him. She shrugged off her coat, draping it around his shoulders. His body shook with the effort of fighting the pain off and staying upright. His chest felt so tight. A police office appeared as he slumped forward, unable to resist the level of pain throbbing in his abdomen.

The world was blurry as he sank down. Panic began to eat at his heart. What was wrong with him? Small female hands caught his head before it hit the road's surface. A voice of authority barked orders overhead. The woman moved closer, lifting his head slightly to rest it in her lap. A sweet scent of tangy fruit blossoms mixed with rich chocolate assailed his senses. Warmth encompassed his chilled form, from both her jacket and her lap.

"Please hold on," a soft feminine voice urged.

A strange numbness overcame Hiroki; he felt detached from his senses. The pain became a fuzzy tingle, like the sensation of pins and needles in his limbs. His drenched clothes and the cold seeping through his skin became a distant annoyance in his consciousness. Calmness settled in his mind, the noisy world drifting away.

"Come on buddy, hold on in there."

The male voice pulled his awareness of the world back. It was a desperate attempt, but Hiroki tried to focus on the woman's face above him. He had to concentrate hard to focus. He had to hold on...

"Keep him talking," the police office instructed.

The woman nodded. She stroked her fingers through his hair, smiling gently down at him. She would be a good mother, Hiroki thought to himself. Her eyes, however, were unable to lie. Hiroki understood in that moment what was coming.

"You saved our lives," she croaked. "You're a hero."

"Or… an… idiot."

A painful shudder wracked his body, leaving Hiroki panting as he gritted his teeth.

"Easy," the woman said, stroking his hair again. "My name is Modori Keiko. What's my hero's name?"

"Kami-jou Hir-oki." He gasped.

"A Hiro by name and deed."

_Hiro… Hiro… Hiro…_ he thought, struggling to fight the encroaching fogginess consuming his mind. _Nowaki!_ The image of his lover caused his heart to twinge. The tears overcame his pride as the happy image of his dark haired lover swam past his mind's eye. Lifting a blood-caked hand, Hiroki grasped the fingers stroking his hair. The grasp was weak, but he managed to attract her attention.

"Will… you do something… for me?"

Bending down, Modori Keiko sobbed uncontrollably as she listened to the last words that Kamijou Hiroki would ever utter in this lifetime. Leaning close to hear his hoarse gasps, she watched his brown eyes, sorrowful and pained, fix upon her blue ones. She knew as his eyes turned glassy, his eyes saw someone else in her place.

He softly whispered three words. 'Wait… for…me…"

When Kamijou Hiroki died, his last and only thought was Nowaki…

* * * * *

...Her first and only thought was Nowaki.

Komori Hiroko was born on the 15th of February. Her infant mind was shadowy and confused by the newness of her world, but she instinctively knew three things beyond the comfort of her mother's warmth. Nowaki: he was the most important part of her and he was missing…

She wanted him.

She missed him.

She loved him with all her heart and soul.

(To be continued...)


	2. Chapter one

**In This Life**

**By DarkestForever**

**Beta Read by Tantopat**

Rating: T (at most)

Disclaimer: All characters and rights of the Junjou Romantica world belong to Shungiku Nakamura and her publishers Blu. This fanfiction is written with no intention of earning any royalties or money. It is for the sole purpose of free enjoyment for the junjou romantica fangirls and boys like myself who are killing time until manga volumes 11 and 12, or another series of the Anime appears on our screens. All chapter titles are suggestive music titles that influenced my inspiration for the direction of this story and are the property of the artists who took the time to write and record them. All sourced through appropriate purchases through Itunes, please support the artists. All quotes are from the some of the great minds and inspirational people, please do check out these words of wisdom.

**Chapter 1: Because You Live, I Live (Jesse McCartney)**

What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined…

To strengthen each other…

To be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.

~George Eliot~

Most children have imaginary friends. In fact, two-thirds of children by the age of seven will have created one. They take all shapes and sizes. They can be fun loving, mischievous, loving and mean characters. They are a means for children to cope with times of change and transition. No child ever remembers when their 'friend' first arrived or when they departed. They are a lingering memory of childhood that fills a special place in an individual's heart, never to be forgotten. However, the time will sadly come when they will be passed over like an abandoned toy, when reality reaches into a child's innocence, forcing them to grow up.

But for some children, imaginary friends are symbols of long forgotten dreams. They never vanish. They are a defining part of their life, Ghosts of past lives haunting the reborn so their restless souls can accomplish their unfinished business. Most might grow up suppressing these recollections, but sometimes an event occurs that sparks a life-long quest.

Komori Hiroko was one such individual. Her quest would begin the day of her sixth birthday. The anniversary of death and birth for her.

Sitting beside her open window, Hiroko listened to the falling rain. She had never liked the rain; it stirred fear in her heart. She pondered the heaviness residing in her heart. There was a deep notion of loss, loneliness and sorrow that was haunted her soul. She never understood why she feared the rain. It was illogical. There was a ghostly twinge; a blurry memory she could quite never recall. Something from her infancy, she believed from which her fear stemmed.

Sighing, she tried to muster up the energy to smile; the guests would be arriving soon to celebrate her sixth birthday. Mother and father would also be returning from their secretive journey to Tokyo, which had unsettled the household. She whispered her concerns to the figure her imagination saw sitting at the opposite to her. Troubled blue eyes observed her, still, as always, loving and kind. She could not remember when Nowaki, had first appeared. Her mother said his name had been her first word. She had always talked about him. Tradition in the Komori household was to bid Nowaki good night. It had been so, since she could confidently speak.

Crawling over into his imaginary arms, she cried a little. As the sobs eased, she started out again across the wet garden. There was only silence. Even the birds were too miserable to sing on this rainy evening.

_Nowaki, what is happening to the world?_

* * * * *

The rain lashed down as Kusama Nowaki drove home. Passing over the bridge, he noted the swollen body of the river as it rapidly flowed onwards in its race to the sea. How effortlessly it moved. How simple a river's existence was. Glancing back to the road, he fought back the tears as the sickening feeling of grief swamped him.

Six years on, life was no easier.

* * * * *

The temple bell rang out six clear tolls in celebration of Hiroko's birthday. Her grandfather stood before the shrine in full traditional dress, chanting the ancient Shinto prayers for health and happiness. Her grandmother, Okiaya Sakiko, sat beside her with her aunt Atkemi and uncle Eiji. Hiroko glanced over her shoulder, looking towards the door. Her parents were late. With the dreadful weather, she was concerned that something might have happened. Sakiko noticed her distraction as the family prayed and gently hissed. Hiroko spun around and focused back on her grandfather's apprentice, Kousuke Kaihara; he sang the closing rites as the bell tolled once more.

A large, warm hand came to rest on Hiroko's head. Glancing up, she met the loving eyes of her grandfather; they smiled down on her with pride and love.

A brief smile touched her lips as he finished his blessing. "My beloved granddaughter, may you continue to live in good health and let your efforts bring honour to this family."

The brief ceremony closed with her personal blessing. The small group returned to the main house to celebrate with cake and tea. Arriving at the house, Hiroko caught a glimpse of headlights, as her parents' car pulled up. She let go of her grandmother's hand, and ran out into the rain to be caught up by her father. He lifted her up into his arms and breathed in the sweet smell of her freshly washed chestnut hair. She could feel wetness clinging to his cheeks, as if he had been crying. Pulling back, she silently questioned him with a puzzled and concerned look. Her mother smiled a secretive, sad smile.

"Lets go in, Hiroeki." Her mother said. "We have presents to open and cake to enjoy, right Hiroko?"

"Yes Mama."

There was a somber feeling to the evening, as if some terrible news was forbidden from being spoken about in order to preserve the happiness of celebrating a birthday. Hiroko obediently blew out her candles, opened her presents and ate cake with her family. Grown-ups were idiots! They could not hide the fact that something was wrong, but they obviously did not wish to talk about it. Her heart told her that it all related to her mother. Hiroko took her plate of cake and sat on Emiko's lap. Green eyes smiled down at her as she offered a sample of cake to her mother. Taking a bite of the chocolate cake, Emiko hugged her closer. They remained that way for a long time, Hiroko listening to her mother's heartbeat. The steady thud was comforting and soothing. The rhythm made her feel drowsy and before long, Hiroko slipped into a light sleep.

There, she dreamt troubled dreams of a strange brown-eyed man.

* * * * *

Kneeling before his personal shrine, Kusama Nowaki whispered prayers for deliverance from the pain that consumed his heart. Six years without Hiro-san had been soul-destroying. He was a shadow of the man Hiro-san had loved. One day he rewrote his life: how he desperately wished every morning for the chance to take that day back. That he had woken up before Hiro-san had left for work. To drag Hiro-san back to bed; to refuse to let his brown-eyed lover leave; to make him call in sick and spend the day in bed, safe from the dangers of the world. There were a thousand different scenarios that Nowaki played over in his head daily. Time was never forgiving, though; it only progressed forward and never gave second chances.

On the day that Hiro-san had died, Nowaki had sat waiting for his lover at the coffee house opposite the flower shop. Valentine's Day was always a big business day. The owner often requested that he came in to help out if he could. Nowaki felt he owed the owner for his kindness. He had hired the lanky teenage Nowaki without references when he had come in asking for a part-time job, promising to work harder than any other employee could. Passion and determination had won him the position. As the rain poured down, Nowaki had wondered whether Hiro-san had an umbrella, otherwise his lover was going to be drenched to the skin when he arrived.

Nowaki waited….

He waited…

As time slipped by he started to feel anxious.

The clocks chimed nine o'clock, as the coffee shop started to close. Nowaki opened his umbrella and stepped out into the street. Glancing at his silent phone, he was confused. The last text had said that Hiro-san would be with him in thirty minutes. It had been sent was three hours earlier. What had delayed his lover? The buffoon Professor who worked with his Hiro-san popped into his mind, pulling a taunting tongue. Dressed in a medieval wizard's costume, the Professor dragged his beloved Hiro-san into a tower to imprison him away from his beloved prince. The daydream shattered as a siren sounded in the distance. He was being foolish. Nowaki sent an urgent text to his lover, asking Hiro-san to get in touch with him. He was heading home and hoped to see him soon.

Walking down the street he reached a traffic junction, blockaded off from public access.

"Did you see it?" A passerby asked their companion.

"No! What happened?"

"A man sacrificed himself to save his beloved from being hit by a speeding car!" The figure answered. "It was a police chase that ended in tragedy. I feel so sorry for that lady. She's heavily pregnant, and now that poor child will grow up without a daddy."

The strains of conversation touched Nowaki. How terrible for that poor couple. Stopping for a moment, he was lost in thought about the event. Had Hiro-san seen the accident? Perhaps this was why his lover had failed to turn up for their date! Hiro-san must have been a witness and been taken to the police station to give a statement. Pulling out his phone, Nowaki typed in the numbers of Hiro-san's phone. It started to ring…

Ring… ring…ring… ring…

Lifting the phone away from his ear, Nowaki listened, bewildered, as he heard Hiro-san's ringtone. Glancing over the barrier, he surveyed the road. Was Hiro-san still there? There was no sign of him standing with the police or on-lookers. Nor was he sitting inside any of the ambulances. He pressed the dial button again, and tried to distinguish where the sound was coming from.

Ring… ring… ring… ring…

He looked down by his feet, and saw a mobile phone lying in a puddle. Lit up in the call identification box was the name Nowaki. Bending down, he picked up the familiar phone and frowned as he held it in trembling fingers. How had Hiro-san lost his phone? Flicking open the mobile, he was greeted by the familiar image he had uploaded for his Hiro-san of them both on a trip they had taken for Hiro-san's research to Kyoto. Grumpily, Hiro-san stared at the camera beside his own gleaming face. As he held the phone, a red substance leaked out onto Nowaki's hand from the waterlogged device.

Blue eyes widened in horror.

Blood…

The covered figure being lifted into the ambulance could not be…

Trembling, tears ran down his face, as Nowaki faced the horror of his new world.

* * * * *

Jolting awake from the bad dream, he rubbed his face as tears trickled down his cheeks. He could still recall every detail of that day as if it were only yesterday. A shiver passed down Nowaki's spine as he pushed himself up. He had fallen asleep before the shrine, the sleepless nights finally catching up with him. He lifted the beloved photograph of his Hiro-san up from the shelf; raising it to his lips, he placed a ghostly kiss on the cool glass pane. The wrenching aches in his heart were almost too much to bear as he stared down at the face of his lover who gazed back in a solemn, serious pose.

Time would never heal the hole Hiro-san had left.

From day one, Nowaki had known he would never be complete without Hiro-san. Life was empty and devoid of warmth without him. Six years on, he was still unsure of how he would ever recover from the devastation of losing Hiro-san. A stray thought of the Professor who had worked with Hiro-san appeared in his mind. The man had told him on that grey spring day, as the blossoms fell like pink snow, that life gives second chances. Clapping an open hand upon Nowaki's shoulder, the older man had turned to gaze across the graveyard, toward a youth with sandy blond hair and grey worried eyes that bowed stiffly to Hiro-san's mother and elderly father, offering a selection of lilies to honour the grave.

The youth had stared at him throughout the remainder of the service. Charcoal grey eyes in turn worriedly gazed at the older man at his side; their hands had entwined as Hiro-san was laid to rest and the final prayers were read.

As they departed, the youth spoke to him. "I am so sorry for the fate of your destined love."

How could you have second chances when you lost the one you were destined to love? The one he was designed by fate to love forever? Life for him ended that day in the pouring rain, when Hiro-san had given his life in a heroic gesture to save two lives. No matter how honored by Hiro-san's bravery he should have felt, he still wished that his lover had been two minutes earlier. That on that wet evening, six year on, Hiro-san could be beside him in a warm, loving embrace in their bed.

Sobs of despair overtook Nowaki as he curled up into a ball, softly calling Hiro-san's name.

He wished to lose himself to oblivion.

He wanted to forget the world.

His thoughts traveled back to the dark river.

* * * * *

Blurry sunshine washed over Hiroko's face as she came to. The world had an odd feeling to it. Everything was an echo, dream-like. Nothing felt real. The grass was itchy and spiky, but also bouncy. It was an extraordinary sensation. Sitting up, she peered around this odd place she had awoken in. She was miles from anywhere she recognized; yet she had a sense of déjà vu, as if she had walked here before. Behind her a river meandered its way amongst the dwellings and businesses of a busy suburb, outlined on each side by a strip of green spaces dotted with the occasional lonely tree. Under a tall sakura tree sat a bespectacled brown-haired man on a rug, an old tattered book resting on his lap and a bag propped up against the tree. Glancing left and right, she noted that there was no one else in the locality. Standing, Hiroko cautiously approached the brown-haired man, curious in regards to her present circumstances.

"Hello?" She ventured softly.

The man lifted his head, his brown eyes inspecting her a moment, before closing his book.

"You're late," he remarked off-handedly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling unusually shy. "I didn't know I was expected."

"Hmmm. Excuses, excuses. Better learn this lesson now; people who want results do not have time for excuses. I do not appreciate tardiness in any form."

"Sorry, sir."

Removing his glasses, the brown-eyed man set them aside along with his book. He gestured nonchalantly for her to sit down on the grass. The silence stretched for a moment as the pair observed each other. Hiroko felt that she knew this man. Scrutinizing his face, she pondered where she could possibly know this fellow from; perhaps he was a friend of her father… a visitor to the temple… a random face she had memorised unintentionally. While he studied her in return, she felt as if his gaze could pierce her soul. There was no notion of invasion, only an awareness of familiarity. Hiroko was about to ask who the mysterious man was, when in his eyes she saw a reflection of Nowaki.

"I know you!" She blurted out.

"Yes, I suppose you do in a warped way." He responded. "But that is insubstantial at this present moment in time. You have a decision to make."

Puzzled, Hiroko continued to glare at him.

With an exasperated sigh, he continued. "Most entities do not have the capacity of maintaining knowledge of their pasts longer than a few moments at birth. In the confusion, previous existences are deleted like unwanted data on a computer. However, sometimes quirks in the system prevent the efficient removal of those files. Our Nowaki file was corrupted in the transfer. My last thought was Nowaki. When my soul was reborn, it meant that your first thought was Nowaki, too. So powerful was the connection between us, it imprinted on your hard-drive, resulting in a residual stain on your existence."

Confused at his declaration, she stuck her tongue at him.

"Childish beyond belief. It is hard conceive how I ended up as you." He muttered.

A thunderclap overhead made Hiroko jump.

Breaking their shared gaze, she looked upwards to the sky. The world had turned darker, and more menacing. A shiver passed down her spine, as if someone had walked across her grave. The world seemed to expand for a moment, and the dreaminess of their world seemed to vanish. Noise re-entered their bubble. Wind whistled through the tree branches; grumbling car engines and the whizzing buzz of mopeds; families laughing and the clinking of dishes from the residences just over the riverbank. The world appeared to revert back to a state of reality. Turning back, she looked at her companion.

"What happened?" She asked.

"You woke up."

"No, I didn't!" Hiroko shouted as the thunderous rumble of a train passed nearby. "This isn't my house; this isn't even the city of Nagoya."

"No. This is a district of Tokyo."

Startled, Hiroko glanced about the capital city of her country. She had never been so far away from home before. This was impossible! People did not fall asleep in their mothers' arms to awaken in strange cities, miles away from home. Closing her eyes, she fought the urge to panic. It was all just a dream.

A warm hand touched her arm, causing her to jump. Opening her eyes, she was greeted by a tortured gaze. In an instant, all her anxiousness was forgotten as she lost herself in that look. It spoke of something terribly wrong; she could feel it in the depths of her subconscious. Knowledge beyond her understanding; this act was breaking all the rules. Driven by despair, desperation and determination. Most importantly, done out of love.

"Please... if you struggle," he implored her, "there is no chance for a tomorrow for him. The world should not end like this for us."

Her voice for the first time sounded child-like and innocent; it cracked as she spoke. "What do you mean?"

"I need you to listen carefully, Hiroko," The man said, crouching beside her. "Nowaki needs you."

* * * * *

This was years overdue.

Holding the box of meds, Nowaki smiled fanatically, as he swallowed tablet after tablet. The doctor had prescribed these to help him overcome his sleepless nights six years ago. He had thrown them to the back of the cupboard, leaving them forgotten. He had wanted to suffer. Ironic, how feelings changed. Now, he longed for peace. Peace of the everlasting sleep. He would lie beside his Hiro-san in a grassy meadow in the other world by tomorrow, as if the last six years were nothing more than a terrible nightmare.

Blurriness fogged his vision for a moment, leaving Nowaki feeling motion sick and swaying on his feet. Fogginess would soon consume his brain; this was the time to go. He needed to act quickly. People would no doubt think he was merely drunk and ignore him as he wobbled down the street. Pocketing his car keys, he drew up the last reserves of his control and forced his body to comply. He grabbed his bag and picked up his coat and Hiro-san's old scarf. He could still smell the lingering scent of his lover, so he thought. He wore it always. It gave him courage. Tucking the scarf into his coat, the door latch clicked. There would be no return here. He strolled casually to the car, pulled open the door and slid in. The engine growled to life. Nowaki stared up through the window to the apartment where they had made their life.

He felt no regret.

Driving through the streets late at night was easy. Most families were at home, eating dinner and enjoying being close to loved ones. In the past, at this time of night, he would return home from a long day's shift to find Hiro-san reading on the sofa or curled up asleep with his book. Grumpy and grouchy when awake, in peaceful slumber Hiro-san had been cute and child-like. Save for the final sleep. There had been no peace in his death mask. A troubled face was the last image that haunted Nowaki's dreams for six years. Had Hiro-san thought of him in his last moments? The thought of parting must have caused that pained look.

He braked finally, and indicated to pull into a nearby vacant space. Panting, Nowaki felt his body tremble with the effort. The high dose medication was certainly working as he had calculated, mixed together with the painkillers; he would have precisely thirty minutes. More than enough time to complete the tasks he had planned out. Opening his bag, he drew out a notepad and began to scribble. The words were all a tingly dance as he wrote them down. It was a simple goodbye; two final wishes that he bequeathed to poor soul picking up the pieces of his shattered life. A vision of the perverted professor clouded his minds eye. Yes, he would be best. Folding the letter, he carefully outlined the characters to spell out:

**M University – Professor Yoh Miyagi**

**Professor of Ancient Japanese Literature**

Sitting back, Nowaki closed his eyes and listened to the noise of the world. It was time.

The stumbling man did not pass by unnoticed.

Several residents watched him anxiously. He was not a local man. Concerned, one debated calling the police. Most ignored his presence; unaware of the deadly mission he was set upon. Stumbling up to the bridge side, Nowaki stood and watched the dark water, as the lights of the road danced upon its glistening surface. How beautiful, he thought. A stray tear slipped from his dark eyes; how different his end would be, lost in the dazzling presence of numbness and glittering lights. Hiro-san had faced pain and trauma.

The dark water called to him, promising to embrace him in sweet oblivion. He no longer felt the cold of the winter world. A pause. He hesitated a moment, a distant voice reaching him on the breeze. A voice he recognized deep in his heart. It begged him, casting doubt. It beckoned him back from the brink. Hiro-san.

Thrusting aside the bewildering sensation, he focused on the water below.

Death is easy to come by. Letting go is the difficult part. As the drugs started to influence his senses and body, Nowaki smiled as the clouds above him parted, revealing dim, flickering stars.

Closing his eyes, the end was simple.

A hop.

A brief sense of weightless.

The bridge was only one storey above the water.

The collision with the bitterly cold water knocked the breath from his lungs. The impact with the water barely registered to his stunned body. So far gone was his mind, it could not recognize whether or not the fall had caused trauma to his organs or fractured any bones. Completely numb, his body tumbled along with rapid, overflowing waters of the Sakai River, swollen from the recent heavy rain of winter. Quickly dragged under, Nowaki surrendered to the water. All resistance was lost. Deadened to the process of life; the body functioned on. Gulps of dark, acrid-tasting water tinted with the city's pollution took the place of breath. Water filled the cavities of his chest where life-giving oxygen once dwelt. Nerves started to tingle. Starving for oxygen, his muscles shrieked out. The heart beat sluggishly as the arctic temperature pierced the shielding layers of skin and fat. Consciousness was long lost to the power of the drugs.

Asphyxiation started to set in.

His lungs screamed out.

All Nowaki knew was the comfort of drugged blackness.

Close to the end, he briefly surfaced before disappearing under again. A brief moment of consciousness… white… there was white… the voice of fate…

_NOWAKI!!!_

_NO!_

_NOWAKI!_

Briefly, he surfaced again. A vision.

_Along the bank: a child._

_Hiro-san._

_He is screaming._

The water was suddenly painful.

_Hiro-san…_

Shivering, Nowaki grit his teeth. All breath was lost. His fingers clawed through the watery wall. Sight was useless in this watery world of smoky liquid. An unseen object collided with him. Gasping, he inhaled another mouthful of the astringent-tasting water. Spluttering, he broke the river's surface. Fingers caught his wrist, pulling him back under. Blind in the un-navigable world of shadows, he held desperately onto that lifeline. He dragged his limp, nearly lifeless form closer to it, and searched for solidness. An age passed, until firm ground brushed his foot. All his energy went into that kick.

Two forms broke the surface.

Pulling the drowning man to shore, there was a scramble of shouting and action. Agitated voices keened into mobiles, calling for emergency aid. Forceful breaths were heaved into the lifeless body, the rescuer workers tirelessly biting down curses as they grappled with death to coax life back into the inert form.

Involuntarily spasms wracked Nowaki's body as he regurgitated the acidic water from his stomach and lungs. Rolling onto his side, he keened out a pathetic noise as his constricted chest fought desperately to draw in oxygen. He continued to cough up lungfuls of the absinthial water that polluted his system.

Nowaki's eyes rolled in his head, consciousness still battling the drugs.

A blurry vision stood beside him, looking over him. He raised his hand to the ghostly vision. Warm wetness greeted his touch. Real. His lips twitched, calling out their name. He felt the splash of the tear against his cheek. Hiro-san was with him. He blinked, clearing his sight. It was the child-like Hiro-san. Dressed in a white gown, he leant over him, brown eyes wide with worry and terror. He smiled up at the vision as his hand stroked the cheek of his ghost; a hand reached up and pressed his close to bless a kiss to his palm.

Ethereal whispers touched Nowaki's ears.

_Because you live and breathe…_

_Because you live, I live._

_Live… you must live…. Without you..._

Deep brown eyes, held his gaze. The beautiful eyes of his lover.

"Hiro… san…" he babbled deliriously, as the ghost faded before his eyes, the darkness of unconscious claiming him.

* * * * *

Hiroko awoke in cold panic on the day after her sixth birthday. A nightmare jolted her from her sleep. Blood… cold… rain… agony. She could remember…

She remembered her death.

She remembered why she loathed the rain.

Her mind was full of strange memories. It would take years for her to comprehend the visions she would come to see. She knew for the first time, there was something special about her existence. She knew Nowaki was not just a figment of her imagination. Last night, he had tried to take his life. She had held him. Staring down at the hand she had touched his with, she shuddered with the memory. He was lost wandering through the world alone. Grieving for her. She had drove him to seek death.

The night's dreams were still vivid in her mind. Sitting huddled in her bed, arms wrapped around her skinny knees, she howled six years of pent-up anguish into her bed covers. Afflictions her pride would never have allowed her to articulate if not for the emotional overload, too much child's body to withstand.

Drying her tear-stained face on her futon covers, she rose from her bed. She longed for warmth to banish the coldness of her soul. She longed for Nowaki. Stumbling down stairs, she was greeted by the delightful sight of her mother. Running across the polished kitchen floor, she flung herself into her mother's awaiting arms. Tea spilling across the table with the force that Hiroko threw herself into her mother's arms.

"Hiroko?" Komori Emiko questioned as she embraced her sobbing child.

"A bad dream?" Her grandmother asked.

"I have no idea, she just came dashing in like this." Emiko replied.

"There was something bothering her yesterday too," her grandmother replied. "I think she knows, Emiko."

Pulling back, Hiroko stared bewildered at the older females of the household.

"What… what's going... on?"

"Hiroko, mummy and daddy have something to tell you." Emiko said soberly, tears fringing her dark eyes. "Oh Hiro-chan, I am so sorry."

That morning Hiroko world descended into hell…

(To Be Continued)


	3. Chapter Two

**Title: In This Life**

**By Darkestforever**

**Beta-read by Tantopat**

Rating: T (at most)

Genre: romance/drama/ character death/rebirth/yaoi

Summary: If fate cruelly stole everything you had; would you have the strength to fight to win it all back?

Disclaimer: All characters and rights of the Junjou Romantica world belong to Shungiku Nakamura and her publishers Blu. This fanfiction is written with no intention of earning any royalties or money. It is for the sole purpose of free enjoyment for the junjou romantica fangirls and boys like myself who are killing time until manga volumes 11 and 12, or another series of the Anime appears on our screens. All chapter titles are suggestive music titles that influenced my inspiration for the direction of this story and are the property of the artists who took the time to write and record them. All sourced through appropriate purchases through Itunes, please support the artists. All quotes are from the some of the great minds and inspirational people, please do check out these words of wisdom.

Author's Note: I would like to thank the following people for taking the time to review this story. You words of support are wonderful to receive so thank you for taking the time to express how much you like the story:

Hikari Kaiya, I Stephanie I, Charity322, JunJou Vampire, Norikio Na No Da, Junjou-is-pureheart, Mika-chan, AsumaKun9, stuckintraffic

And specifically to Lizelle- I know the story is a little jumpy in places, its designed to be… you will see in the next chapter why.

Also I would like to apologise for the late posting of this chapter; my beta read was bogged down with work and despite being my best friend for 15 years so couldn't neglect her other commissions to beta read mine first as I have managed to get her to do in the past. She promises the next chapter will be done in a timely manner. Plus we have a bonus feature in the works that will be a bridge story for** In This Life **and **All Those Yesterdays**, which will without giving to many hints away continue Nowaki's misadventures from the last chapter as someone was curious to know what happened to Nowaki and the terrorist couple.

**Chapter 2: Scars (Corinne May)**

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls;

The most massive characters are seared with scars.

~Kahlil Gibran~

Hell is not a mythical burning, fiery pit.

Hell is a very human place; filled with pure, unremitting noise.

Hell is every hospital on earth.

Hospitals were raucous places were the war zone of life and death was fought. The noise of which is unbearable to the living. Human noise: chattering nurses, rattling on like machine gun fire, with clicking heels. Moans, groans and mumbles from other patients. Nerve wrecking coughs of the sick. Phones and pagers shrill rings. Constant noise bombarded the hearing: with chirps, tinkles, beeps and mechanic whorls. Every machine had its own signature sound.

De-deep… de-beep… de- beep.

Be-beep… be-beep… be-beep.

Berep…berep … berep

Hospitals are where the sounds of humans and machine converge to generate a ricochet resonance, so low in pitch it eats away at the soul undetected by the soulless wraiths of the medical profession. The healthy transform slowly into wraith-like skeletal zombies; they became too weary with the burden of disease to offer resistance to that demonic resonance. First, it consumes the luminosity of life from patients' eyes. It saps the strength of their souls before ultimately claiming the heat of their hearts. Her mother was a shadow of her form incarnation; gone was the profile of the candid, proud businesswoman and adoring, devoted mother. Instead, lingering in that woman's place was the frail, sickly specter that preoccupied Komori Emiko.

Hiroko hated hospitals.

Since the morning after her sixth birthday, Hiroko had inhabited this hell. Inescapable was the hellish torment her family had endured watching her mother perish slowly to this satanic disease. Seated in the family room beside her father Komori Hiroeki, in the presence maternal grandparents, Okiaya Yoshiko and Sakiko; together, they awaited the life's verdict. Eternity was in those moments as the doctors assessed her mother's current condition.

Strain was visible on her father's face.

Stern and suspicious, her grandfather scowled out at the world.

Somberly, her grandmother held herself with unwavering conviction in fate.

The doctors finally returned with ashen faces- the woman, Doctor Hori advised Hiroko to be taken from the room. Hiroeki declined the counsel. This concerned the whole family, shying her from the truth was disrespectful to the intelligence of his daughter. All three doctors' gazes rested upon Hiroko; guilt-stricken and desolate guises co-habited their faces, as they announced their conclusions.

"I offer my sincerest apologies," Doctor Kiba bowed slowly, his aqua eyes cast on Hiroko. "I am afraid our findings suggest the disease is too far advanced. Further treatment would just be agonizing and prolonging your wife's suffering. Our recommendation is to ensure you wife has the best quality of life in her remaining days."

The wail that came from her grandmother reverberated through Hiroko's soul. A sound all too familiar: beads of perspiration rolled down her forehead as painful quakes throbbed in her mind. Blinding white light overtook her senses.

An inhuman cry from a wrenched-soul echoed in her mind, as Hiroko slumped unconscious, into the arms of her grandfather.

*****

The fragrance of freshly mown grass swept over Hiroko's senses. Awaking, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Above her, sunlight streamed through the tree canopy above, birds twittered in the underbrush and the wind whispered musically through the blossoming branches. A magical thicket of peace, where the sky floated amongst the trees, bathed in the sensual chorus of colour, sunlight and birdsong. Sitting up a gentle breeze tussled the locks of her hair; as she reached to brush her bangs out of her eyes another hand stroked them away.

A little startled she gasped as a young boy, stood over her shadowed by the sunlight. He crouched down to study his intruder; he was only a few years older than Hiroko. He wore a dark uniform with shorts and blazer. What astounded, her was how similar his looks were to her own, from the curves of the face to the shape of the lips. They could have been mistaken for siblings. His brown hair a shade darker, cut much shorter than her girlish length. His nose was a little more straight and longer, more suited to a boyish face. Besides those minor differences, they were almost identical. The same brown eyes studied her face; there was not surprise in his gaze, only serious and sad eyes studied her. In her inspection, she realised he possessed the eyes of a grown-up.

"Why are you here again?" He asked.

"Again?"

Pursing his lips, he seemed displeased at her response. "If you are going to be an idiot, I have no time for you."

"Please wait," Hiroko gasped grabbing the hem of his blazer as he began to stand up. She glanced around briefly. There was an dream-like essence to this place. Etchings of a memory stirred in her subconscious; this place reminded her of the nightmarish dream from which she woke recalling foreign memories not her own. Whispers of a place and time outlandish to her own existence; notions she had haboured secretly to herself upon receiving the harrowing new of her mother's illness.

"I remember a dream," she said coyly. "A dream disconcerting in nature."

"It was no dream," the boy said with a piercing look.

"No," Hiroko murmured sorrowfully. "For afterwards, I recollected a vision of agony and torture- it was my death."

"Actually it was mine, by rights." The boy sniffed settling down in the grass crossed-legged. "But that's trivial; what are you doing here?"

Hiroko plucked at the grass. "I don't know. I just kind of woke up here."

The boy pulled a face. "One doesn't just wake up here. What happened?"

A stray tear slid down Hiroko's cheek. Reaching up to touch the salty wetness, she remembered. Her mother. Sobs slowly emanate from her quivering body. The body was dismayed at sight of the tearful girl; he had never been very good with crying females. He had very little experience of them. Patting her back, awkwardly, he tried to comfort Hiroko. Hot painful tears continued to roll down her cheeks. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, the boy held her as she howled her heartache.

"Erm… what did you remember?" He asked, hopelessly lost at what else to do.

"It's my mother." Hiroko cried. "They said she's dying."

The boy cupped Hiroko's face in his gentle hands. His gaze held hers in a tender, sympathetic look. Tears slowly dried upon her cheeks as she continued to watch him. He leant forward drawing her close in a gentle gesture of comfort. Releasing her from the hug, he straightened to sit back on his heels and survey her earnestly.

"_Au wa wakaré no hajimé_," the boy whispered to her. "Do you know what this phrase means?"

Hiroko shook her head.

Standing, the boy glanced out of the thicket towards the sky. The beautiful blue had slowly turned golden as the twilight of the day began to descend. In the dusk light, he stood in a pose attempting distinguished and wise in appearance. Hiroko found herself smiling as she thought, how cute he was. Biting down her twitching troublesome lips, she listened as he explained his words.

"Meeting is only the beginning of separation," he translated. "That's what '_Au wa wakaré no hajimé_ ' means. No one we meet in our lives is ours to keep forever; from the moment we meet someone separation will occur at some point in the future as everyone must die in the end. As you grow you will understand the meaning of this phrase if you retain your memories."

"If?" Hiroko asked, a little confused.

The boy looked saddened, smaller in statue suddenly. "Most people forget their previous lives as they grow older, I only exist within your memories now. You'll forget me one day. Retaining the memories you have of Nowaki and me as long as you have already surpassed the majority. Most omit their recollections of preceding lives within days of inhabiting new lives."

A haunting sounds slowly rose on the breeze, as Hiroko stared at the disheartened form before her. The boy sniffed rubbing his sleeve over his eyes to disguise his own tears. Boys don't cry, she heard him utter under his breath.

"What's your name?" Hiroko asked.

The boy looked at her. "I don't have a name anymore; they take it when you die. So you can't find your way back- we aren't supposed to go back to trouble our past lives."

Coldness touched Hiroko as she stared up at the boy.

"I won't forget, I vow!" She pledged seizing the boy's hand. "I'll learn to write quickly to write all I can remember down. Then I shall memorize it all!"

De-deep… de-beep… de- beep.

Be-bep… be-bep… be-bep.

Berep…berep … berep

What was that noise? Hiroko wondered.

Overhead hung the dark blue of night. The evening stars were starting to peek through the mists of twilight. The boy looked skywards with a resigned misery. His eyes filled with darkness turning black before her eyes.

"They will try to force you to forget," he whispered mellifluously to the rustling breeze.

De-deep… de-beep… de- beep.

Be-bep… be-bep… be-bep.

Berep…berep … berep.

_Hiroko._

_Hiroko darling, time to wake up…_

_Sweetheart?_

The dream became hazy as Hiroko heard her aunt Atkemi's voice call to her. Opening her eyes, she came to resting in the guest bed of the relative's room in St Luke's International Hospital.

*****

Komori Emiko was still dosing as her daughter stood sentry watching over her. Contemplating the myriad of memories from her perch on her mother's bed, Hiroko found herself dwelling on dark thoughts. Her dream had distressed her. Her thoughts loitered on the nameless boy entrapped in her memory; she had sworn an oath not to forget. The encumbering weight of her promise now sprawled before her. Where did she start? For years, she had reminiscence about Nowaki. Mistaken for an imaginary friend her family failed to perceive the character possessed more than fantastical meaning. How did a six year old persuade the modern world they could commemorate a past-life?

Hiroko glanced at the noisy monitor beside her mother's bed. Despite the shortness of time, she had come to learn how to interpret the display. Today, she understood she had lost a little more of her mother. The adagio of her mother's heart rhythm was giving out to the slow fade of the outro of life. Breathing was becoming a laborious affair for her mother's waning body. A nurse enters with a respectful bow, she checks the IV drip before noting down the stats of monitor. The IV machine beeped as it concluded its cycle. Disconnecting the tubes, the nurse dismissed herself to fetch fresh saline drip and the barrage of medication her mother was receiving.

The beeping ruckus of the machine disturbed her mother's slumber. Pale chestnut eyelashes flutter against the austere glower of the fluorescent lighting. Concealing her susceptible eyes to luster with the heel of her hand, Emiko smiled faintly as Hiroko scrambled to the switch above the bed, clicking off the painful glare of the lights.

Returning to her seat, Hiroko sat rigidly upright, her eyes downcast studying the wrinkles in the bed covers. Her shoulders drooped as if fraught with the weight of the world. Concerned, Emiko reached out a hand to stroke her daughter's hair, comfortingly.

"You are very quiet, Hiro-chan." Emiko commented. "This has been very hard on you, hasn't it? You probably don't understand everything that's been going on."

Her daughter remained quiet.

Trying again, Emiko asked, "Hiroko, what troubles you sweetheart? You haven't been yourself for nearly a month: its alright if your afraid."

"Mama, why do I have to forget?"

Drawing her daughter close, Emiko sighed. "You never have to forget darling. I will never forget you."

"But you will!" Hiroko protested before biting her lip. "Mama do you ever think I am strange?"

"Strange?" She asked confused.

Hiroko pulled back a little to face her mother; she looked up into her mother's eyes honestly and direct. "Isn't strange I accomplished so many things as an infancy so quickly. My vocabulary is better than most other children and so are my mathematical skills. Grandma says I am better than her!"

"You are just special, Hiroko."

"No," Hiroko cried. "I wasn't. Not until I came here. I was normal and worked hard for the things I achieved. My only strength was I was intelligent!"

Emiko frowned. "Until you came here, Hiro-chan? The hospital?"

Hiroko shook her head violently in denial, her brown hair flipping side to side. "No! Until I became Komori Hiroko."

Emiko felt her eyes widen at her daughter's declaration. Tears started to roll down, Hiroko's cheeks as she sat on her knees, hand clenching the bed covers. Uncertainty clambered at Emiko's heart; she sat back against her pillows considering her daughter circumspectly. What had possessed Hiroko to utter such words? Her calm, levelheaded daughter was most honest and voyages into the whimsical took place only in the delightful creations of her imaginary companion, Nowaki. She had never before told tall tales to an adult before – not even in reference to Nowaki.

"Hiroko-chan, what are you trying to tell me? Darling, you are speaking in riddles."

"Oh Mama," Hiroko whimpered softly rubbing the tears from her eyes, angrily. "I don't want to forget him. If I forget him how can I find him again?"

"Forget who?"

"NOWAKI!"

Sighing, Emiko pinched the bridge of her nose. The nurse chose this moment to re-enter with the refill saline bag and the next dose of medication. As the IV drip cycle was reinitiated, she thanked the nurse. The young woman smiled warmly and offered to fetch anything that Emiko might like. The gurgles in her daughter's stomach reminded her it was well past lunch, her husband had properly been blinded by his own concerns and forgotten to feed Hiroko. Life was going to be difficult for Hiroeki; his responsibilities would double with her. Glancing at the shaking form of her daughter, Emiko wondered if this episode was attention seeking. Asking the nurse for a few snacks, she focused back on Hiroko.

"Hiroko, there is a large adjustment period going on at the moment." Emiko explained to her, tilting her daughter's chin up to look at her face. "Someone may have overlooked your feelings and been insensitive to the fact you are a child. You always act so mature, it is easy for adults especially to be clumsy and forget you are only six years old."

Hanging her head dejectedly, Hiroko mumbled onwards. "No one understands."

"Oh Hiroko!" Emiko retorted feeling her patience lagging. "Please then be straightforward and explain to me, what has occurred to make you play up like this? Are you angry? Unhappy?"

The next remark caught Emiko off-guard.

"What if you there where two people very much in love- pure love, which they had struggled through hardships for- but one day death tore them apart?"

"Hiro-chan…"

"But death wasn't the end," Hiroko continued on. "What if one was reborn and remembered their love? What if they could never forget? How do you live knowing that?"

Tears touched her cheeks as she listened to her daughter's words. Emiko was uncertain if Hiroko was talking about herself or her parents. Was she trying to ask if her mother would return in another life to their family? Raised in a Shinto temple, Emiko had been instructed to find happiness in the blessing of life. One of the few true Shinto families, she had never really given consequence to the thought of the afterlife. Her father had told her rebirth was Buddhist philosophy. The afterlife was a vague concept in terms of Shinto philosophy, she had found through her studies. Personally, Emiko believed love was life's most treasured gift; so rare and priceless how could it simply vanish with a soul's last breath.

"I believe we come back to be with those we have loved."

"Mama, Nowaki is a real person who I loved once." Hiroko said looking up into her mother's eyes; her heart was in every word her small lips uttered. Her eyes suddenly large, seeming older than her years. "A month ago, I had a dream were I remembered my death. I can't forget that! I don't want to forget because if I do it means I will lose him too!"

How did one respond to such a revelation?

*****

As her daughter slept curled up beside her, Emiko stared out over the city, the moonlight bathed the hospital room in an eerie glow. Regretfully, she would die here. Her hope had been to return to Nagoya. Quietly the door clicked open, entering silently Hiroeki came to his wife. It was roughly just before dawning of the new day- exactly 3:16 am. They greeted each other with silent smiles and he bestowed a soft kiss upon his wife's lips.

Emiko had begun to feel the weightiness of sleep upon her shoulders. Sleep from which she inwardly knew there was no awakening from. She had requested the nurse send for her husband. She wanted to discuss an important matter with him. In hushed tones they whispered about Hiroko. Discussing the claim their daughter stated received a snort of disbelief. Born in to the world of science and logic, Komori Hiroeki was possibly the most unlikely ally for Hiroko. Clasping his hand, she implored him for one final request.

The heart monitor chirped.

Time was close.

Glancing at Hiroko's slumbering form, Emiko memorised that innocent image, the gently sucking of her thumb in her sleep. Leaning over, she kissed her daughter for the last time.

Whispering to her softly, Emiko made her final promise. "Hiro-chan, there is no language on earth that could convey how much I am going to miss you. You fear forgetting, well I am afraid you will forget about me too. So I am going to make you a promise."

Emiko raised her eyes to hold her husband's tentative gaze as she whispered a sacred vow.

"If it is your heart's desire, my darling." Komori Hiroeki answered gruffly. "I will support her in anyway."

Entwining their fingers together, they spoke little save to imprint their declarations of love upon each other's hearts. As the darkness of night surrendered to the light, Emiko's frail-hold on life slipped away. Her last breath pleaded once more for her husband to love and cherish their daughter and for him to trust in the caprice of an everlasting love.

*****

The pinnacle event for Hiroko's life would be the loss of her mother. Most people are cushioned in life; it is those who feel the array of emotions who truly come to understand and cherish life. For Hiroko, her mother's early demise was ingrained in her childhood memory, which scarred, like burns, never allowing her to forget for a moment the remarkable woman or the associated memories of a lost love.

It is through the hardship of loss, we discover the gift of love and life as we are tested with the adversity of grief. The grief that marked Hiroko would set her apart. At the age when most children identified to possess past-life recall start to forget and adjust to becoming a new individual, Hiroko's scars would mean Nowaki would never be able to leave her side. His memory would provide her the fortitude to stand strong; as her family grieved, she found her stride in life. With it flourished the conviction to find rediscover her past and to seek out Nowaki grew stronger.

As she presented her mother's ashes to the family alter, she prayed to her mother for guidance and aid from her ancestors.

_May the gods grant me strength to seek out my fate._

_Wisdom for my soul madly and helplessly blinded by love._

_Protection for my heart that will never know love like this again._

_(To Be Continued...)_


	4. Chapter Three

**Title: In This Life**

**By Darkestforever **

**Disclaimer:** All characters and rights of the Junjou Romantica world belong to Shungiku Nakamura and her publishers Blu. This fanfiction is written with no intention of earning any profit. It is for the sole purpose of free enjoyment for the junjou romantica fangirls and boys.

This story bears no resemblance to any other Junjou Romantica fanfiction; save for a sentence which occurs in another story (neither plots are alike). I would ask any reader who has an issue or concern relating to this to contact the author without leaving abusive reviews or accusations. I was slightly horrified to find that a reader of mine had flamed another writer because they mistook the intent of the story development. Fanfiction is an opportunity for writers to explore their creativity and enjoy receiving feedback, while catering to the imaginations of fans. Please enjoy all stories and be kind to the writers because you tread on an individual's dreams.

**Author's Note:** Thank you for all the reviews, I enjoy reading each and everyone. They really do keep a writer motivated so please keep them coming. I would dedicate my newest chapter to my newest reviewers: Don-V (I have not give up just yet), Summer-Panda (your kind words gave me inspiration!) and the mysterious X (I hope my words continue to meet your expectations- also in the near future please look out for the development of Somewhere In the Middle: it is the story of Nowaki's recovery, I think you will enjoy this story too).

**Please also note, this chapter is in a raw form. I am working with a beta to have it edit in the near future. I believe the chapter makes sense and works at the moment - however small chances might occur in the near future once the beta-ed chapter is uploaded.**

**Any errors are my own. Thank you. ^_^**

**Chapter Three: Lost (Within Temptation)**

Tell your heart the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself.

And no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams.

~Paulo Coelho~

_Twelve years later…_

Humans possess a limited moment in the cosmos. Condemned to know transience, that in the blink of an eye, life can be extinguished. Mortal and limited, mankind is forced to suffer a maelstrom of sensations. Life is a patchwork quilt compilation of sorrowful and joyous instances through which all persevere to achieve their dreams. Komori Hiroko could testify to the struggles and strife of chasing a dream. For six long years, she had diligently labored to survive for this moment.

Standing in her stiff seifuku, starched especially for the occasion, she faced the daunting gates of her last day in adolescence. Today, she would be graduating from Nagoya Women's University Senior High, an honors student who had received offers from prestigious institutions across Japan. Swallowing hard, she breathed deeply trying to placate the sickening feeling her stomach. She could not falter here. On this precipice, she stood facing all the difficulties, doubts and despairs that had sought to thwart her journey.

If she hesitated, she would fail.

Setting her resolve, Hiroko recited her mission: collect her diploma. The piece of paper that would bring honour to her family, allow her to be recognized as the esteemed, gracious young woman and secure her freedom.

A warm hand gently squeezed her tense shoulder. Casting a sideways glance over her shoulder, Hiroko met the gentle turquoise gaze of her best friend, Amaya Reina. Born of a scandalous union between a Japanese diplomat and a western journalist, Reina had inherited her mother's beautiful western silver blond hair and exotic eyes. She had been a painful shy child who was persecuted by several boisterous bullies in elementary school. The bullies found to their misfortune, Komori Hiroko would not tolerate their antics. A vicious altercation had been the foundation of their friendship.

The soft spring breeze tussled the pink sakura blossoms ahead bring a cascade of pink snow drifting down over them. Hiroko smiled as she remembered the gloriously happy moments of their shared childhood. For a decade, they had grown up like sisters; swapping secrets, cultivating each other's dreams and sharing each other's darkest pains.

"Beautiful." Smiling, Reina whispered reaching up to brush stray petals out of her hair.

Under the drifting blossoms, Hiroko could not help but feel an ancient ache in her heavy heart. Twelve years on, he was still absent from her life. Closing her eyes, she thought of those enigmatic blue eyes filled with adoration that haunted her dreams. Casting her eyes to the checkerboard sky of white and azure, she grieved for him. An old persistent apprehension surfaced in her mind.

Was it time to lay this apparition to rest? Why couldn't she release these morbid recollections? She ought to seek a life of logic and rational thought – a good university education would set her on a path to a good career, family and fulfillment. Staring down the tree-lined avenue, she felt tears prickle in her eyes. Why did she feel she was squandering precious time taking steps towards a life of wondering and unanswered questions by denying him?

Her father had tried his best to honour his promise. Nowaki had proved an elusive figure to trace; based on sketchy memories their quest had little solid foundation to employ the services of a private detective, yet her father without question sort out the best. Her father, Hiroeki had investigated every avenue open to him to support the claims of his only daughter. For a year it had been an outlet for his grief at the loss of his beloved wife; Emiko's last request had empowered him to continue on.

Books had littered his small study, Hiroko remembered sitting with him reading textbooks on the subject of reincarnation. Meeting with scientists, psychologists and dubious people who claimed to have the gift of foresight. One man had struck her as genuine; his name was Dr Graham Stevenson, an American researcher who her father had identified as a leading authority on past life psychology.

"Mr Komori, you have an extraordinary case." Dr Stevenson had told them. "I hope you might consent to meeting with me in the near future. I would be very interested in seeing what assistance I could offer in attempting to piece together Hiroko's story."

The meeting had been orchestrated for shortly before her eighth birthday.

A meeting that she would never attend.

Death had changed the Komori and Okiaya households. Almost two years to the day of the anniversary of her mother's death, a secret was exposed to the Okiaya clan. Hiroko had attended school as normal up until this point in her life; her teachers would often describe her as mature, serious child gifted with brilliance and a wonderful imagination. That day changed everything. Komori Hiroeki had always made a point of collecting his daughter from school, so it was a surprise to find one of the temple's apprentices waiting for her.

Arriving home, Hiroko had found herself summoned to the Temple Office by the request of her grandfather. The room was dark, illuminated only by candlelight. The air was thick with incense. Several severe looking men sat gathered dressed in sacred robes. Chimes of the Temple bells tolled as she was instructed to sit in the centre of the room on the tatami floor.

The shoji screens opened and in stepped her grandfather.

Glancing up, she met the hostile glare of her grandfather. Okiaya Yoshiko was a strict and austere man; he possessed weighty expectations of his family and apprentices. A devote purist Shinto priest, he was wary of the outside world and foreigners. His heart had hardened further with the death of his daughter. There was no tolerance for failures in his mind; he dictated a stringent regime that was rigorous in maintaining discipline and the purity of the Shinto beliefs.

Curiously, Hiroko sat in wonderment at the reason for the gathering.

Surveying her in stern manner, her grandfather summoned forward one of his apprentices. The young man scurried forward carrying a heavy book. A streak of fear grew inside her heart as she recognized the cover.

"Komori Hiroko is the only heir of the Okiaya dynasty," her grandfather's booming voice announced to the room. "Reverberations of a disconcerting nature have reached my ears regarding this child, which affronts this family and temple."

The atmosphere of the room was choked with tension.

This meeting was called to purify her. Hiroko listened astonished and bewildered as her grandfather recounted a tale of an evil spirit trapped within her. She was a reincarnated soul with memories and feeling from last existence. Clearly a lost kami was at fault. A human soul whose foolish family had been irresponsible in their death duties had allowed a discontented spirit to possess a vulnerable innocent. The kami had deceived the Okiaya and Komori families through delusion of madness instigated by that malevolent spirit consumed Hiroko.

"Follow priests, brothers, I have called you here with special purpose." Her grandfather concluded. "My family are vulnerable at the present with the death of my daughter. I must ask your assistance to perform the rituals to placate our disturbed spirits by purifying my granddaughter, to dispel this wickedness from within her."

Hiroko clambered to her feet backing way from the stare of the priests. Fear clutched at her heart as the priest beside her grandfather gave instructions to begin the ritual. Two pairs firm hands seized her. Alien apprentices held her, forcing her down to her knees on the tatami mat floor. She struggled against their hold.

Angry voices from the passage way had interrupted the ceremony as the priests had prepared to commence. Blood had fallen millimeters from her as the pressure holding her down was released. Familiar hand snatched Hiroko up. Hiroeki held his daughter close as he ranted at the gathering of men. She listened with bitterness as her father tried to explain in a rational way that he believed his daughter was suffering from a delicate mental state that was compromised from the trauma sustained from the difficult months that preceded her mother's death.

Her trust in her family perished in that moment.

A year of psychological testing and isolation followed. Diagnosis varied from the baffled to the deranged; they recommended a course of medication to control the condition that plagued her. Resentment had grown in her soul; she resisted every treatment, flushing tablets that she was forced to hide under her tongue. Their efforts only inspired Hiroko's determination and stubbornness. For a year, she imprisoned herself in the sanctuary of a world, surrounded by memories and dreams of a man with kind blue eyes.

Compromise was eventually reached because of her grandmother's influence. Okiaya Sakiko was an unnervingly beautiful woman for her early sixties. She possesses soft sepia eyes, aphotic shiny black hair and was endowed with the courtly graces of serenity, elegance and poise. Before her Miai, her grandmother worked as a successful accountant. Upon her marriage, she became responsible for the management of the temple's finances; her financial savvy proposals had caused the temple to flourish. She was highly respected within the temple and local community for her efforts. Her infamy came from her kindness, generosity and meticulous organisation of the festival's food stalls, entertainment, carnival games and firework displays.

Sakiko could not bear the numerous medical treatments that were subjugating upon her granddaughter. Hours of her limited spare time were dedicated to researching alternative treatments. Seeking out new insights into human psychology. On Hiroko's tenth birthday, her grandmother took charge of her education. Determined to see that her intelligent granddaughter mind was properly instructed and challenged. Sakiko never engaged the thought that behind her granddaughter misery was the seed of truth, until the education she designed invited fate's intervention.

* * *

_Kouyou, Kyoto – Three Months Later…_

As part of her Japanese culture education, her grandmother had coordinated a series of excursions designed to re-enforce her lessons and use exciting experience to engage Hiroko's learning. Learning by hands-on observation was important her grandmother insisted.

Kyoto was the perfect location to study Japanese history, experience autumn festivals and visit prominent historical temples and sites. Their itinerary spanned four days of touring the historic neighbourhoods and exploring cultural experiences. Every aspect of the tour was selected to incorporate new understanding from staying in a traditional Ryokan to having a tea ceremony with a Geisha. Sitting in her yukata on their room's porch while supposed to be reading Tanabe Kaho's novella 'Yabu no uguisu', her mind unengaged from the prose, which she found unimaginative. Her thoughts strayed to the amazing city of Kyoto. For three days, Hiroko had enjoyed the escape of her grandfather's iron hand regime were his apprentices' eyes followed her every movement.

She had experience the comforts of the Tamahan Ryokan, an establishment that valued the privacy of its guests and specialized in high quality Kyoto cuisine. The food of the inn had been exquisite. Food was normally a lost luxury to her as her medication often blunted the tastes of most dishes. Kyoto chefs had invented a type of cuisine resistant to those side-affects. Her favourite dish was Shimokobai. It resembled a mid-winter plum blossom; the sensation created by the flavours and textures of this appetizing wagashi bemused her. The sensation that tickled her taste buds where subdued but quite weird and otherworldly. The filling was gooey, sweet white bean paste that was soft and cream on the tongue. An addictive sweet!

Her stomach gurgled at the thought of food.

Sighing, she closed the book.

Glancing back into the guest room, Hiroko watched her grandmother pacing while chatting on the phone. The evening check-in call. Every night this call took place; her father would speak to her grandmother to check on their progress and to ensure had been no incidents. She would glad swear on the spirits that the men of the Okiaya household were worrying like old women. Kyoto had not invoked any recollection experiences for her; occasionally she had turned down a street and faced a momentary sense of déjà vu. No

The Tamahan Inn's resident cat spooked her. With a laugh, Hiroko petted the friendly feline. Her heart ached for a moment for her own beloved pet miles away in Nagoya. Akihiko would probably never have noticed her absence. Her kitten had more attitude than most humans. A venomous hatred of the male species was his talent. The temple apprentices' complaints were rife about the silver tabby, which hissed and yowled if they came to close. Not a cuddly cat like her current companion. Purring satisfied with the attention, the Tamahan's cat set off in pursuit of new mischief.

The hour was growing late. In the distance a clock chimed the eleventh hour. She decided to set out their futons as they had an early start in the morning.

Tomorrow was their last day in the city.

Their last destination was the Saihō-ji Temple Complex.

Saihō-ji had special meaning to the Komori family. Here in the famous moss gardens, by the pond shaped like the character for heart her father had proposed to her mother. Sakiko had specially requested a favour from Monks to permit them to have an extended visitors pass to the gardens. Entry to this sacred site was by initiation only and through performing the ritual of Zazen.

Her grandmother spent the morning instructing her in the art of meditation related to Zazen. The pose necessary was seated, with folded legs and hands, and an erect but settled spine. Several times, she unbalanced herself. Determined, Hiroko disciplined herself to calm her mind, relax her body and settle her weight into the standard sitting position, with her hands folded neatly into a simple mudra over her belly. Her grandmother loomed behind her monitoring the pace of her breaths. The Hara rhythm of breathing was supposed to help the practitioner control their centre of gravity from the stomach muscles.

She was a quick study.

The Monks were impressed with her grasp of the techniques. Hiroko discovered it was easy to shut out the distraction of outside objects during the mediation. Relaxed and calm, her mind was at peace and unhindered by drowsy sensation that clouded her mind. Whispering the chant of the sutras, Hiroko felt her soul feel enlightened. In the calumet of serenity felt her thoughts drawn downwards, deep into the heart of her mind. Where a single image stirred.

Amongst the red, orange and golden foliage of the gardens was a secret path. Winding and twisting its way through the mossy banks, this path directed her to a secluded spot bathed in dappled light by a murky pond. Time was brief. A sense of urgency bubbled up in her thoughts. They could not linger here too long; ninety minutes they were granted to walk along the mossy pathways. This was his concession and apology to his lover. Ninety minutes were they would hold hands in the tranquility of this private place.

Nowaki's overjoyed and excited smile broke into her mind.

Love and adoration spilt into her heart.

Gasping, Hiroko broke her mediation. Her grandmother cast a cautionary glance towards her. A few fellow mediators appeared annoyed by the disturbance. A mumbled apology escaped her lips, as she resumed her chanting.

At the closure of the ritual, the monks distributed delicate sheets of paper amongst the small group of visitors. The man who handed a sheet to her possessed a halcyon smile. He instructed her to write down her greatest wish, with her name and address. She politely enquired to him would the monks keep the sutras and continue to pray for all the wishes as the apprentices of her grandfather's temple did.

The monk chuckled. "All the sutras are kept in the pagoda, where we keep a close eye upon them. Each day prayers are offered for all the wishes in hope that good fortune is bestowed and they are granted."

Looking to her grandmother for permission, she reflected on what to wish for.

"May I wish for anything?" She whispered to the Monk.

"Anything you desire," he smiled. "Make it a good wish and I guarantee it will come true."

Over her shoulder, her grandmother was speaking to the head abbot of the Temple. An old connection of temple business united the pair in friendship. This was the important man who had wavered the time limitation for their visit. Life had been wondrous the last few days. Hiroko inwardly was afraid to return home to her prison. Watching her grandmother, she wished that the older woman might be sympathetic to her and to accept her claims as true.

Could she wish for that?

Hastily, Hiroko scribbled down her wish. Folding the paper over neatly, she passed the wish into the collection bowl of a Monk. Once finished, her grandmother beckoned her over. Introductions were made to the Abbot. He greeted her warmly with affection and began the tour of the temple buildings and Northern Zen rock garden. The adults rabbited on about distant memories to which Hiroko only half listened too. Topics changed to the history of the gardens and the temple complex. Changes in name and purpose. Destruction by fire and flood. Outstanding cultural beauty and hundred and twenty different types of moss.

The tour drew to a close outside the main temple hall in the Eastern side of the temple grounds.

"Well, I must return to my duties, Sakiko." The abbot said taking her grandmother's hand. "Please enjoy the rest of the eastern moss gardens with Hiroko, they are breathtakingly beautiful. Home to good memories for you too. I bid you enjoy your day."

Farewells were brief.

Turning towards the eastern grounds, Sakiko began to recant the tale Hiroko had loved to hear from her mother. The romantic proposal. The Komori family were originally from Kyoto; a proud dynasty who's fortune was vast. However, biology had not been kind to the descendants of this historic family who once served the ancient households of the Emperor's of Japan. Komori Hiroeki was the only heir to his father's estate. His only living relative was his aging father, Daeki, whose last wish in life was to see his beloved son married and settled.

Many Miai were organised for Hiroeki.

From all corners of Japan girls came to try impress the proud bachelor. Each girl failed to match the standards of the Komori clan. They were all too plain, too common or too selfish. A delayed invitation to meet with the Komori clan arrived in early spring. The Okiaya family's daughter, Emiko was available to attend a Miai. A recent graduate of Nagoya Women's University in Accounting, she possessed the intelligence and sophisticated that Komori Daeki craved in a potential daughter-in-law. Descended from a good family, Okiaya Emiko was a perfect specimen for his son.

The introduction took place in early March.

Awkward and nervous, Hiroeki and Emiko barely spoke two words during their introduction. Their parents boosted of their successes and watched hopefully for signs of a promising match. Disappointment loomed in the hearts of the parents as they felt their children had failed to be inspired with each other.

Hiroeki invitation surprised and delighted both families.

For several days, Emiko and her sister were the guests of the Komori household. Visiting the local hotspots of Kyoto and cultivating a relationship. It was a painful parting for the two. Two months of emails, skype messages and phone calls followed. Hiroeki came to visit the Okiaya temple. At Emiko's sister's wedding, he realised that the Okiaya household would depend on his beloved to secure the future of the temple. Rumour at the wedding of the intention of a novice apprentice to ask Emiko to marry him caused Hiroeki to return to Kyoto swiftly to announce his intentions to his father.

A month later, with secret approval he brought Emiko to these gardens.

By the lake surrounded by the chorus of the dying summer cicadas, he proposed.

"And here, on this very spot, Hiroko. Your mother said yes." Sakiko concluded her story.

Sakiko stood astonished at the empty space behind her.

She glanced about worriedly searching for Hiroko.

"Hiroko!"

* * *

Walking under the dappled light of the trees, Hiroko was bewitched the beauty of the garden. Lagging behind her grandmother, she failed to observe the older woman's choice of path. Wandering off track, she diverted off the tourist trail onto a hidden, disused path.

A path that she had walked before.

Whispers of a warm touch caressed her hand.

An infectious joy pulled her forward.

Apparitions of his soul walked ahead of her under the Kouyou leaves.

Phantom words called out to her…

"_Come on Hiro-san," he encouraged. "Where is your sense of adventure?"_

Ducking under low hanging branches, Hiroko came to a concealed bridge covered by a mossy growth. It creaked and groaned under her weight. She stepped onto a small island located in the great lake.

A ghostly embrace came about her waist.

His soft voice tickled her ear as he spoke of wicked deeds.

Spinning on her heel, Hiroko suddenly found herself standing in another moment. Nowaki stood opposite her. His enigma eyes shinning laughter and happiness. Pulling her close, they sank into the moss bed beneath their feet. He traced the contours of her face with loving reverence. Each moment lasting a thousand years as she lay in his arms.

"_Thank you, Hiro-san." Nowaki said with a sigh. "Thank you for this evening; it is paradise."_

Tear filled in her eyes as the memory washed over her.

She had come to Kyoto with the intention to spend quality time with her lover. Nowaki had specifically requested the time off; working several others' shifts to claim this special time. The conference was supposed to be a brief day event. The event that would see her appointed as a full professor of the literature department. The weekend, she had wanted to introduce her lover to her family. Nowaki should have sat in the audience beside her family as she delivered her research presentation. Proudly, he would congratulate her.

Tears dripped from her eyes.

They had ignored him.

Stealing the first chance that she had been prepared to formally announce her love to her family. Dismissed, Nowaki had browsed the delights of Kyoto alone. Her family stole her from him. Escaping late on the Sunday afternoon, she had kidnapped Nowaki seeking refuge in an isolated place.

The gardener of the Saihō-ji Temple Complex greeted them as the sun was sinking on the autumn horizon. A kind man, he had opened a gate hurrying them in. Alone in the gardens, they had explored. Ninety minutes, he gardener had instructed. Together in privacy, they held hands without society's weight judgment.

The countdown began as the moment slipped by.

Secluded little island paradise… was the perfect moment.

"I love you, Nowaki." Hiroko cried sinking into the moss, tears spilling down her cheeks for a lost moment of paradise of another life.

* * *

Darkness settled over the gardens.

Frantic searches of the paths were conducted in search of the missing ten-year-old girl. Sakiko stood alone helpless as the Monks and gardeners conducted their surveys of the garden's walkways. Where on earth had she disappeared too?

An elderly garden brought her a cup of tea.

"That should help warm you up and soothe those nerves."

"Thank you," she smiled weakly.

"Don't worry, we'll find her." The gardener reassured Sakiko. "Will you be alright alone? I 'm needed to go check one of the paths closed for renovation."

Drawing her jacket closed tightly, Sakiko nodded. Helplessly, she watched the gardener vanish into the twilight dusk armed only with his flashlight. An hour later, a group had gathered bemused at Hiroko's magical act. On the verge of calling the police, the elderly garden reappeared followed by a muddy girl with a tear stained face. Sakiko felt her heart sigh in relief. Shakily, she descended the stairs and ran to embrace her granddaughter.

"Don't you ever, ever do that to me again!" Sakiko reprimanded the trembling girl in her arms.

"I am sorry, grandma." Hiroko sobbed, returning the hug tightly. "But I saw him. Nowaki was here!"

With her frazzled, anxious nervous; Sakiko was in no mood to indulge the selfish flights of fantasy of her granddaughter.

"Hiroko, enough!" Sakiko snapped. "He isn't real!"

Flinching back, Hiroko stared up at her grandmother in pain and resentment.

"He is real!" She bit back rebelliously. "Nowaki is a real person! Why don't you believe me? Mama did! I wish you had died instead of her!"

The sound of the smack resounded across the silent courtyard. The heel of Sakiko's hand stung as it collided with her granddaughter's cheek. Sepia eyes darkened as they glared at her. Standing taller, Hiroko walked proudly passed the crowd of monks watching the exchange.

"Was that necessary?" The elderly gardener questioned passing over Hiroko's bag to Sakiko.

"Please accept my apology on behalf of my granddaughter," Sakiko murmured refusing to answer the question. "She is a very sick child."

"Sick?" The gardener repeated surprised. "Strange maybe, not sick."

"Pardon?" Sakiko asked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Studying her for a moment, the gardener removed his hat and brushed a hand through his thinning grey hair. "Well, I must admit it was a little eerie to have a ten year old girl relive a moment with me that happened three years before she was ever born."

Icily fingers gripped her heart.

"Relive? What do you mean?" Sakiko asked with a shaky voice.

The gardener looked at her directly.

"I found your granddaughter in a secluded spot in the gardens. Access is generally closed to visitors." He stated. "Last day, it was open was thirteen years ago. I remember that day clearly; the last people to visit that stretch of path were two young men. One was tall with dark hair and blue eyes, the other shorter with brown hair and eyes. I was shocked when she laughed about it on the walk back with me. I don't know how on earth she knew one of those lad's name was Nowaki or how thirteen years ago, I made a joke about the destroyer that once bore the same name to him."

Staring after Hiroko's retreating form, Sakiko stood chilled and confounded to the core of her soul. How on earth could her little girl accurately known about that conversation that proceeded her birthday by three years in a place she had never visited before?

Was everything that she claimed true?

Hiroko's attitude was bleak on the return to Nagoya. She managed to offend everyone who crossed her path. Violently reacting to everyone. Sakiko could feel her granddaughter's anger. She felt betrayed and lonely. She ached for the one person in the world who had accepted her. Her mother. Seeking answers in her daughter's shrine, Sakiko begged for away to alleviate her granddaughter's suffering.

A fight between Hiroko and her grandfather yielded the answer.

Sakiko had the power to seize control of the situation. She could transform Hiroko's life. The dutiful wife of the high priest had a powerful card to gamble: divorce. Sharp words were exchanged the day, Sakiko laid down the new game rules. Her husband surveyed her in silence, with a dismissing nod he agreed to her terms. Hiroko's freedom was bought. Sakiko slipped into the bleak bedroom of her granddaughter. Hiroko watched warily as her grandmother approached her with a tray of juice and medicine.

"Roko-chan," her grandmother said softly. "I need you act very grown up."

Curiosity peaked in her granddaughter's eyes. "Why?"

"Because I believe in you," Sakiko announced honestly.

Hiroko listened cautiously to the elder woman's instructions.

She would have to deny him.

Bury it deep.

Never speak outwardly of Nowaki until she was older.

Hugging her sobbing granddaughter, Sakiko's heart throbbed for the broken spirit held in her arms. The transformation took two years. The declaration of recovery was received with a sigh of relief for all those attached to the Okiaya and Komori clan. Hiroko was permitted to return to school and bestowed with the normal freedoms of a twelve-year old girl. By Middle School, Hiroko thrived in academia and sports; she possessed excellent social skills and trustworthiness that commanded respect amongst her teachers and peers. On the outside, Komori Hiroko was a normal adolescent girl with good friends, exceptional grades and a proud bibliophile.

This life was all just a façade.

Looking up at the grey school building, Hiroko fixed a determined look in her eyes and summoned her courage. Clutching her satchel closer like a shield, her other hand she held out to the turquoise-eyed girl at her side with a smile. Together they took their first steps across the threshold into adulthood. Crossing the school grounds, they elicited looks from staff and students alike. Hiroko felt a stab of intimidation and expectation as they reached the shoe lockers. Slipping off her shoes, she began to recite her speech. Nerves were getting the better of her. Gritting her teeth, she stood eyes closed gathering her thoughts. Holding her head high, alluding confidence and poise, she entered the school.

Graduation was a blur of motions to Hiroko.

Her mind was engaged in deeper thoughts.

As a summer of freedom loomed before her, Komori Hiroko prepared to embrace the disquiet murmurs of her heart. Accepting her diploma, she tossed her cap high, for it soared with hope. Murmuring the words, "Anzuru yori Umu ga Yasushi."

She had made her choice.

She was primed to conquer her fear.

For living any life would be empty until she found her Nowaki.

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter Four

**Title: In This Life**

**By Darkestforever **

**Disclaimer:** All characters and rights of the Junjou Romantica world belong to Shungiku Nakamura and her publishers Blu. This fanfiction is written with no intention of earning any profit. It is for the sole purpose of free enjoyment for the junjou romantica fangirls and boys.

Again a raw chapter, but I am determined to just let you readers enjoy the story, until my beta-reader finishes the editing process. I will update chapters in the future with the corrections.

**Author's Note:** Just to remind all my reader that all the chapter titles are songs that I listened to whilst writing. If you are interested in listening to the songs please do, there are some incredible artists I have discovered writing In This Life.

**Chapter Four: Where The Dream Takes You (Mya)**

All our dreams can come true…

If we have the courage to pursue them.

~ Walt Disney ~

Train's wheels screeched throatily as the carriage drew into Tokyo Station. Alighting off the bullet train, she glanced inquisitively about the busy station. Commuters hurried through the crowd, shoving and hassling each other as they went. Frigid air greeted the new passengers on the platform; the sun was sinking low on the dying spring horizon. Frosty breath left her lips as she sighed at the prospect of battling her way through the sea of commuters. She found a haven by the vending machine; a breathing space to wait for the ebbing flow of people to diminish.

In her pocket, her cell-phone tinkled as it received a message.

Fishing the phone from the protective cocoon of her pocket, she read the message. Skimming over the instructions, she scanned the platform crowds to see if it was safe to brave stairs. The train doors hissed signaling that the locomotive was ready to tergiversate. Commuters scurried desperately to avoid a bitter wait in the uncomfortable cold. Overhead, the platform boards read another train was due in minutes. Eager to skirt the next rush, Hiroko absconded the stairs two at a time. She crossed the busy foyer of the station.

Waiting by the entrance, stood a lanky youth with dyed blond hair, lazily watching passers-by. Dressed in low hanging dark jeans, a tight-fitting top that generously demonstrated the lithe, muscular form beneath the fabric he stood out against the crowd. Mature, dramatic and devilishly handsome; his mesmeric demeanor received appreciative looks from passers-by.

A brilliant smile greeted beamed from his face, as he noticed her approach.

"Roko-chan!" Isaoki Tsukino grinned, rushing to wrap his arms around her.

Hiroko laughed as her younger cousin affectionately greeted her. Isaoki Tsukino, also known as Kino-kun was three years her junior. An excitable teenager graced with god-like looks and muscles to match. A few girls in high-school uniforms shot vexed venomous looks at her. Releasing her, Kino snatched her luggage from her hands and directing her towards the exit.

"I couldn't believe it when Uncle said that you had decided to attend Tokyo University!" Kino chattered happily. "Kaasan has planned a welcome dinner with a few friends of the family for tonight. She's proud of you."

"Jealous, Kino-kun?" Hiroko asked as they stepped back into the chilled evening air.

"Nah!" He smiled. "I'm a coaster in class, not an academic! I'm more the sporty type."

"You're incorrigible!"

"Sure am." Her cousin winked. " Kassan's pretty adamant you're gonna be living with us for university. What are your plans?"

"Worried, I will crimp your style?" She asked flipping a stray hair from her eyes.

"No way!" Kino snorted.

Studying her cousin's 'does-it-look-like-I'm-bothered-face', Hiroko smiled. Out of her three cousins, Kino-kun was the most laid back. The youngest of the Iasoki children, he had specialized in developing a talent for mischief and mayhem according to her aunt's emails. Flirty, flighty and fast were the words to sum up Kino-kun. His athletic ability was carving an infamous reputation in the high school circuits for running and baseball.

In comparison to his older brother, they were as different as night and day. Eihino was a gifted scholar. Family predictions said he would likely sit the entrance exams for Tokyo University. His ultimate goal was Harvard University. Glowing reports from his parents suggested, he had preference to study law. He had gained notoriety in a debating championship and praise from several distinguished lawyers who employed him part-time.

Her eldest cousin, Tsukiko: also known affectionately dubbed Kiko, graduated in fashion design from Bunka Fukusou Gakuin. A sharp eye for pattern and design, she had been snapped up by a branded fashion house in Europe. Now living abroad in Paris, Hiroko doubted that her eclectic cousin would ever return to Japan. Kiko's multiple piercings and outlandish outfits had ruffled feathers in the traditional elders of their family. Hiroko greatly admired her cousin for having the courage to trust in fate. Her gamble to launch her designs in Europe had paid diverends and the freedom to live her life as she pleased.

"So?" Kino asked, disturbing Hiroko from her reflective reverie. "You gonna be driving Hino mental? You know he loves competition."

Hiroko shook her head. "I have my own plans."

"Oh?"

She laughed amused by his confused puppy impression.

With a secretive smile, she linked arms with her blabbing cousin and proceeded to follow him to her uncle's awaiting car. Absent-mindedly, Hiroko's fingers strayed to the letter tucked cautiously into the inner pocket of her coat.

She had lofty ambitions for Tokyo.

* * *

Three hours later, she found herself the guest of honour at her aunt social gathering. A lackluster affair with tedious guests milling about her aunt's elegant home. Dreary music played overhead. People picked at uninviting hors d'oeurves. Many of the younger guests drowned out the monotonous conversation of the archaic guests with shot after shot of champagne.

Hiroko passed through the collective of guest exchanging half-hearted greetings on route to make her escape. Safe on the third floor bedroom balcony; she looked out over the industrious urban sprawl of Tokyo. Twelve year on, this far-flung place was still the root of traumatic memories and terrible grief. Her mother had died in this city.

There had been grave misgivings at her desire to study here. Deviously, she endured surreptitiously with her own reasons for accepting Tokyo University. Promise of her gifted intelligence brought invitations from the literature departments across the nation, all offering bribes of scholarships to seduce her. Tokyo's allure stemmed from an inconsequential book found in a forsaken corner of a library.

Preparing for the graduation ceremony, the sensei requested a volunteer to fetch a book from the librarian. Lost in her thoughts, Hiroko was unaware the class had advocated her for the chore. Trawling amongst the dusty bookshelves of the philosophy section, destiny unexpectedly bumped Hiroko on the head.

Blurry.

Throbbing.

Queasy.

The world came back to her in pieces.

Nursing her head in her hand, Hiroko cursed under her breath as the dizzy spell passed. A blanket of books littered the ground at her feet. Glancing up at the bookcase, she sighed at the broken plank that once served a shelf. She would have to inform the librarian about the accident. Reaching up to secure several precarious books clinging to the splintered shelf, a memory stirred

"_Tut tut Hiro-san, sometimes I could believe you love those books more than me."_

Startled, her fingers latched onto several books sending them cascading them down upon her. Stooping, Hiroko began to stack up the fallen books, neatly to one side to prevent a further incident from occurring.

A book single piqued her interest.

Junai Romantica.

An unusual title for the philosophy section.

Hiroko felt her eyebrows rise in surprise. Two young men stood entwined in an erotic pose on the front cover; clearly spelling out the nature of the book's content. Who on earth would have hidden such a book in the library? Snorting in mild disapproval, Hiroko reached over to pick up the offensive book. Frankly some hobbies were best reserved for the bedroom not the school library, she thought.

As her fingers touched the book, a cold tingle ran down her spine.

A dull ache surfaced in her head.

Dark violet eyes stared at her unimpressed.

Blinking, Hiroko stared at the book.

This book had strange meaning to her.

A disembodied voice resounded in her memory.

"Hiroki, you and your boyfriend are sex icons," the violet-eyed man smirked, as he lit a cigarette. "My editor tells me you are selling better than any of my other Junai collections. You should be honored that have immortalized you."

Fury burned in her blood. "You used me as porn material without consent!"

"Humph." The violet-eyed man snorted, slumping back into the cushion of the sofa. "It isn't porn; merely an erotic graphic novel. I have portrayed Misaki and myself in plotlines too. He does not complain or wine like you."

A small brown haired youth appeared bring a tray of drinks.

"That's because I learnt there was no point in arguing with you." He muttered under his breath. "The great lord 'Usagi' does as he pleases."

The youth stirred further recollections. Flashes of different memories of the youth: sitting laughing by a fountain with other college students; frowning in concentration as he took notes; anxiously pacing his office as the media prowled the university campus; pleading with her to not tell his brother about his lover. A green-eyed youth with a promising mind, who failed simple quizzes and who wrote essays as dull as dishwater.

"That is no the point you imbecile!" She yelled at the lilac-eyed man. "Writing about me giving fantastical stranger a blow job detracts from my dignity and worse it crosses a line. You upset Nowaki!"

_Nowaki._

This book had caused great suffering in her younger lover. Returning home to find him anguished had provoked her rage. In the apartment, a spilt mug of coffee stained the carpet and the offensive book lay open on the table. A graphic scene portrayed all the lewdness of the deviant sexual act. Nowaki trembled on the sofa at the carbon-copy figure of herself embracing another man. Hours of coaxing and comforting followed. Holding her lover tightly, a ghostly echo of murderous fury had reverberated in her heart.

Usagi would pay for this betrayal.

The memory dimly faded… Feebly, Hiroko rose to her feet. Crossing the scattering of books, she unconsciously moved to the fiction aisle. Thumbing through the others she scanned for the mysterious Usagi. Her fingertips hastily traced the spines of the books only to find nothing. With a sigh, she resumed her search of the book requested by her sensei. The offending book, she secretly stashed in the void of her satchel. In holding that book, she could feel the needy warmth in Nowaki's embrace and the eager fervor of his kiss. This novel required further investigation.

Akikawa Yayoi was the author. Her career writing Boy Love novels apparently ended suddenly. A very little explanation was offered to her fans accept the bereavement of a loved one. Inquiries with her publishing offices revealed that she had resided in Tokyo. Further bizarre coincidences had tied Tokyo to her memory. _Here_. Her heart whispered. This place had significant meaning. Her eyes grew distant: the most frightening she could remember occurred on the walk to the subway while stopped at a traffic light junction.

Colourful flowers tied to the sidewalk railings had caught her seven year old self's attention. Curious to know why, she tugged on her aunt's sleeve to question the older woman. Sadness crept into her aunt's eyes as she soberly glanced towards the bouquet.

"Sometimes people leave flowers for loved ones that they lost," she explained. "Like we do at your mama's grave."

"Why not leave the flowers at a grave then, Oba?" Hiroko persisted.

"Hiroko!" Her uncle chided, noticing his wife's distress. Hauling, Hiroko up into his arms, he continued. "It is rude to question your Obasan like that."

Over her uncle's shoulder, she could see the lonely decaying flowers. Perhaps the giver of these flowers had no grave to visit, she thought. This was an odd place to represent someone's grief and loss. Resting her head upon her uncle's shoulder, Hiroko felt a spatter of rain. She trembled at the coldness of the droplet and with a twinge of fear. As the party headed into the underground of the subway, the flowers vanished from view.

Overhead a thunderstorm downpour began.

The din of the traffic above and blurring off angry drivers sounded out with the thunder.

Headlights of the traffic caught her eyes as the street disappeared.

The terrifying vision of cars, rain and death that plagued her dreams, crashed through Hiroko's mind. Screaming and sobbing uncontrollably, she fought against her uncle's hold like a possessed creature. Onlookers watched horrified at the scene of the young girl thrashing against her uncle's hold. Embarrassed, her aunt and uncle hurried away from the crowds. Smuggling Hiroko into the women's toilets her aunt and cousin, Kiko attempted to console her. During these outbursts, the doctors had prescribed sedatives.

The quick pinch of an injection left her pliant and dozy.

Her father tucked her in that night, quietly quizzing her on the day's events. Komori Hiroeki had always been skeptical about the claim his wife made in her dying hours. Despite his misgivings, he had shielded Hiroko from the blunt of the disagreements and the family's insistence his daughter required specialist treatment. Infrequently, occasions such as today brought doubts into his mind about Hiroko's fairy tales. These seizures were getting worse. Drugs and counseling were temporary situations in his mind.

In a Shinto household, reincarnation was a difficult concept to stomach.

However, there were contradictions to the diagnosis the psychologist had assigned to his daughter. Neuro-psychotic conditions did not explain her advanced reading ability that far exceed that of a seven year old, familiarity with a bookstore she had never visited before and knowledge of a restaurant's menu were she had never eaten. Prime examples that supported her claim that prior to being Komori Hiroko, she had been another person. Yet, even he struggled to believe in her.

"Papa, you believe me don't you?" She asked sleepily from the influence of the sedative.

He stroked her hair reassuringly, urged her to sleep.

Closing her eyes, tears spilt down her cheeks as mumbled in her sleep. "I bet he misses his Hiro-san."

In the present day, Hiroko glanced up towards the sky a stray tear meandering down her cheek. Spying for the occasional star that could be seen through city's light population. Hiroko turned her mind back to her reflections of the present. Tomorrow promised a chance of answers. Secretly, she had orchestrated the opportunity to uncover answers. Downstairs, she could hear the party winding down. Looking to the heavens once again, she whispered the word of a prayer.

"Mama, I know it is wrong to deceive, but please don't this effort be in vain."

* * *

Stepping into the Psychology Department's office, Doctor Graham Stevenson smiled warmly at the school's secretary. They politely exchanged the Japanese pleasantries as she arranged his message and post into a neat pile. Handing him, the stack of papers the young woman bid him a good day and returned to her computer desk. Efficient and effective were his two words to describe Japanese secretaries. Stevenson reflected briefly on the sassy she-demon that manned his office in Seattle.

He was going to miss the respect and courtesy of Japanese society.

A warbling voice suddenly called out to him.

"Stevenson-Sensei," called the secretary. "Sorry, Sensei. You missed a message. A caller left an urgent message on the voicemail; a Miss Komori wishes to speak to you."

Sighing, he returned to the office door to collect the misplaced message. "Did she indicate the reason for wanting to speak to me?"

"Yes Sensei," the secretary answered, passing over the message pad. "It relates to your past-life transgressions research."

* * *

The coffee shop was located in an obscure French patisserie called Viron, nestled in a busy district of Shibuya. Reading her watch, Hiroko noted she was ten minutes early. Perfect punctuality. She had four hours to complete her secret mission. Four hours to make it on time to the orientation day at T-University and keep her flat viewing appointments. The bell chimed as she entered the busy bakery, avoiding the main public counter she headed up the staircase to the main café.

A polite hostess greeted her.

Ordering a tea, Hiroko enquired with the hostess about her associate. The café was still quiet at this hour of the morning; customer traffic would increase as the day wore on. Probably why the Professor had selected his venue at this hour, she mused. An American male was an easy individual to recall. The hostess jabbered on about the cordial gentlemen as she guided her to a table in the back of the café. He was roughly middle aged, between forty and fifty, she calculated. He smelt like aniseed. Vaguely handsome in a distinguished way; his blond hair was tinged with freckles of grey and his face adorned with a few life-experiences.

Dr Graham Stevenson was an American psychologist, involved in researching past life transgression. He had traveled from Seattle to lecture at K-University as a graduate speaker. He possessed a distinguished academic research career that spanned twenty years. Involving psychological analysis of past life transgression, exploring incredible claims and debunking a few fraudsters. Ten years ago, he made her a promise.

Thanking her guide, Hiroko weaved in and out the tables on the approach to her appointment.

Remember to speak English, she cautioned herself.

"Stevenson-sensei?"

Baltic grey eyes surveyed her. "Miss Komori, I assume?"

"Hai, sensei." She answered slipping into vacant seat.

"Glad you were able to find my secret hide-away." He murmured, taking a sip from his espresso cup. "Did you have to come far?"

"No, sensei. I came from the Ebisu District."

"Not too far then." The grey-eyed man mused. " Do you want a coffee? This Frenchie café does a damn good espresso! Saved my sanity over the last week! Tokyo doesn't do good coffee; the canned stuff is a monstrosity!"

"I ordered tea." She answered with amusement.

"A nation of tea drinkers like the British." The professor grimaced. "Right, what can I do for you?"

"Doctor, I don't suppose you recall a case you were once invited to research here in Japan about ten years ago?"

Puffing out a thoughtful sigh, the American scratched his cheek. He frowned a moment. "Once, I believe by a gentleman in Nagoya."

Whispering on a soft breath, she said. "Do you remember the promise you gave to that family?"

"Ten years is a long time, Miss Komori." He replied; an abraded look glinted in his mercury-colored eyes. "What relevance does this have with your puissant plea to meet with me?"

Fishing into her pocket, Hiroko fumbled with the extraction of a folded piece of paper. Curious, the doctor accepted the note and scrutinized every word imprinted on the sheet. His brows furrowed thoughtfully as he read.

"Well, Miss Komori. I believe you ought to start at the beginning of your story," Stevenson said, returning the note to her. "And I think I need another cup of coffee first."

This greying professor listened attentively as she recited her experiences. His question where direct and possessed no underlying motives, designed to goad her into slipping up. From the conversation, it was clear that he was a man on a quest for the truth in a deceptive universe.

He made detailed notes.

Urging her to recant as much detail as possible. The most obscure, trivial facts that she knew that could correlate her claims. For the devil was in the details, he explained. The human brain has amazing capacity to invent passionate figments of the imagination or indeed recollections of a lost life.

Two hours into the interview, they had covered extensive ground. A tea stood untouched and cold surrounded by three empty coffee cups. Hiroko had divulged her early recollections of her imaginary friend and blurry memories. The conversation had then visited the sorrows of her mother's death and how it had redefined her life.

"So I made a vow," She concluded her telling of her mother's passing. "Despite the reservations others feel about this situation, I can't relinquish my quest… who I was… the man I loved."

"Why is that?" Stevenson probed.

Hiroko pondered the question.

Had there ever been a time when the thought had crossed her mind? Letting go was the easy option. She was blind to all else for he was her universe. Her lifebuoy in the confusing sea of hormones of her teens. The source of powerful dreams that had tumbled her world into chaos and caused her years of embarrassment. No dream described by any of her classmates inspired by actors, pop stars or the local high school hottie could relate to the heat of hers. No man could rival the intensity of sensation; hearing the awkward tales of her friends, Hiroko had vowed to never tangle with boys. Her tastes had been fashioned by the man who kissed her like she was precious and was driven consumed to possess every fiber of her being.

Closing her eyes, she let her thoughts drift to him.

A tall, dark haired man with navy blue loving eyes filled her mind.

_Eyes you could drown in_, Hiroko thought to herself.

Looking squarely into Stevenson's eyes, she spoke softly with real conviction. "Sensei, I believe pure love is a treasure: rare and golden. Once found it burns into the core essence of your soul. You cannot love another with the same passion like that again. Why would I want to give up on something so precious as that?"

He smiled. "No, I doubt even I would struggle to disregard, such a seemingly perfect love."

For an awkward moment, silence hung over the table.

"It is almost time for me to go," she announced noticing the time. "I have to be at the Tokyo University in an hour for registration."

"I see," Stevenson nodded. "You are an extraordinary young lady, Miss Komori. With your bright, inquisitive mind you will go far. A shame to waste it on the Humanities, but if literature is your calling, I wish you all the best."

Collecting her thoughts, Hiroko wanted one final answer.

Setting his cup down, Stevenson looked into the teary eyes of the young woman seated opposite him. In that moment, he possessed the power to destroy her dreams or release her from a life-long obsession. Studying her profile, he released for the first time in his career his instincts were telling him before him might be the genuine article.

"Most cases, I have compiled are indisputably examples of false memories." Stevenson finally answered her first question with honesty. "A life created by the imagination inspired by various media inputs. I can refer you to case studies that may have genuine merit; for example Jenny Cockell, a woman from the United Kingdom has certainly established positive possibilities."

He continued to breakdown key components of her case. Individuals who possessed only partial recollections struggled to be triumphant. Pulling out a notepad from his briefcase, he scribed the established facts of previous life. Terrifying dreams and irrational fears commonly associated to reincarnation. Her memories indicated specialist knowledge of Ancient Japanese literature. A career related to teaching and from a good family background. Partial recognition of individual names: she could recall her own name had been Hiroki. She had possessed brown hair and warm brown eyes. Average height. Lived with a man called Nowaki, who was involved working with children and flowers.

Death caused by a vehicle; most likely a car accident in an urban setting. Frequent déjà vu moments within Tokyo, pinpointing a strong possible correlation to the city. A paltry recollection of childhood memories of her past life suggesting she was an adult at the time of her death.

Vague statements, Hiroko thought as she listened to his review.

"Did I miss anything?"

Hiroko reflected upon the question. "Sometimes, I feel as if I might have been male, but that is nonsense if I had a male partner."

Stevenson quirked an eyebrow at her statement and smiled inwardly, keeping his retort to himself.

He suggested that Hiroko should contact his colleague, Carol Bowman who had a career built on deciphering past lives, particularly in children. Her theory was that after the age of seven memories fade. Children with powers of recall found life experience could overwrite past life memories causing; once cultural conditioning occurred the identities of the past were lost. In Hiroko situation, there was a unique element. Isolated from a traditional upbringing due to her home schooling the memories had survived to continue percolating through into adulthood. This would fascinate Bowman.

Offering her hand she thanked him. "Thank you Doctor for your time, I appreciated the opportunity to finally speak with you."

Setting his cup down, Stevenson looked into the teary eyes of the young woman bowed politely towards him. In that moment, he possessed the power to destroy her dreams or release her from a life-long obsession. Studying her profile, he realised for the first time in his career his instincts were tingling. Before him might be the genuine article. The case of a lifetime: his own holy grail.

As she left the table, he bolted to his feet, he shouted Hiroko back.

"Do what you have to do in order to find him!"

_To be continues..._


	6. Chapter Five

**Title: In This Life**

**By Darkestforever**

**Disclaimer:** All characters and rights of the Junjou Romantica world belong to Shungiku Nakamura and her publishers Blu. This fanfiction is written with no intention of earning any profit. It is for the sole purpose of free enjoyment for the Junjou Romantica fangirls and boys.

This story bears no similarity with the fanfiction written by Patcher, entitled Even Across Time.

**Author's Note:** I would like to continue to thank my amazing reviewers! Thank you for taking the time and effort to comment on my work. Especially for the last chapter, I was very unsure of the story twists (I will admit I had a dose of writer's block) would pan out and how to develop the next few chapters. The reviews of Cerberus Revised and Sakana-san gave me the confidence to tread new ground. X, I am sure you will be please with this chapter – before your plea for their reunion this was the planned chapter for Nowaki's return. However do not think, I am getting soft. I have evil plans to continue with the story twists.

I know a lot of people read this story I would like to encourage more of you to leave a review. Reviews are invaluable support for writers and inspiration in periods of dreaded writers block. I don't agree with holding stories to ransom – it is frustrating for readers. I would like to ask you to please review my story; comment on any aspect you like or dislike. I would love to hear from all my readers who believed this story was worth adding to their update notices and favourite sections.

**Chapter Five: Two Worlds Collide (Demi Lovato)**

This is the way that everything in the universe was formed.

It is a never-ending story of things colliding:

Small things colliding to make big things,

Big things colliding to make bigger things.

These are the events that shape today's galaxy.

~ Pieter Van Dokkum ~

Registration day was pandemonium.

At first sight, she stood aghast at the ongoing commotion.

Hustle and bustle.

Pinching and poking.

Shoving and seizing.

The whole affair was quite fatiguing.

Slurping her cool beverage, Hiroko felt relief as it drenched her thirst. Hours of talking and wandering had drained her energy reserves. Under the heat of the early summer skies, she pondered the rationality behind hosting such events. Cramming hundreds of overheated, perspiring students into sweltering rooms to stew lacked logical sense.

_If you had not been distracted you would have been here before the mob_, her mind chided her.

Complaining would not change the situation. Hiroko sighed as she glanced out the cafeteria window to the summer sunshine. She had collected her registration papers with ease. The scholarship office processed her paperwork within the allotted time of her appointment. The system broke down as she enrolled for her classes. Her choice had been to specialize in Humanities, her preferences for classes in Literature, History and classical Japanese language. However, an individual lecturer had taken impromptu leave of absence sounding the death knell for her organised and orderly schedule.

Sitting before three bickering class advisors, an irradiated tick began in her brow. A headache pounded annoyingly at her temple. How on earth could the most distinguished university in Japan employ these anencephalic imbeciles? Resigned to resolve the issue herself, she had demanded access to the academic course handbook.

Riffling through the book, she quizzed the hapless educators on alternative options.

"I am sorry Komori- san." One lecturer apologized glancing nervously at her increasingly demonic profile. "The schedules for this term won't allow you to take those subjects with the mandatory curriculum."

Dark eyes glared, she curtly addressed the feeble man. "What pray tell can I take to fill the hole in my timetable?"

Three faces answered her at once. "Law!"

Gulping another chilled mouthful of her drink, Hiroko humped at the pile of literature in front of her tray. Law. A worthless subject in her opinion. Her childhood friend, Reina was delighted at the turn of events. Enrolled as a law student, Reina had guided her along to the department in glee.

Apparently the female law students were all enraptured with one Professor. He was a resplendent example of the male form. A sumptuous dish that Reina gushed over as they entered the department.

The man at the heart of this female fixation was Professor S. Miyagi.

Knocking softly on the door of his office, Hiroko resigned herself to endure the perdition of law studies. Inwardly cursing the selfishness of one man. She hoped his endeavours were for the procurement of new insights into the art of literature, so her suffering would not be in vain.

A muffled voice invited her in.

Opening the door, she was greeted by a tall, handsome man with straw blond hair and dark grey eyes. He was roughly middle-aged, presented in a designer suit and to most would be a titillating vision. Hiroko found him disenchanting. His profile failed to appear as tantalizingly as her princely memory.

Professor Miyagi turned to inspect her over the rim of an equally expensive pair of spectacles. Dark silver eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her. A flare of familiarity crossed the lecturer's features, as he rose from his desk.

"Can I help you?" He asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

"Good day, Professor Miyagi-san. My name is Komori Hiroko. I believe you were told to expect me; I have been assigned to your class due to a schedule clash."

"Of course." He murmured turning back to his desk for a clipboard. "Yes, as a result of a simpleton in literature you weren't able to register on a very popular course. My faulty has to bear the slack left by that dunce. I hope for your sake, Miss Komori you have ability beyond literature. Law is a subject the requires an acute, questioning mind."

Seething with rage at the dismissive tone of the man before her. Her nails dug painfully into her palms as she bit her tongue. He questioned her academic potential! He had the nerve to disregard her with contemn because her first choice had literature. She would demonstrate her perceptive and capable mind to this arrogant professor!

"The student manning the sign-in desk told me, you would come by to collect my class timetable and book list." The scarecrow blond muttered. "Here is information you will need and the first class assignments. I won't tolerate half-assed work or excuses. Make sure you complete assignments, Miss Komori."

A brush of skin caused her eyes to widen.

Dizziness clouded her thoughts; she stumbling back she hit a desk.

A faint lingering scent of familiar cologne and cigarettes reached her senses.

The nameplate.

Miyagi.

Her head pulsed with the image of a tall, dark haired older male. A lazy cigarette perched on his lips. Mocking gestures directed at her furrowed brows and snarling countenance. The overwhelming sense of weakness. Sexually harassing embraces. Gushy claptrap. Compromising cuddles involving a high school student with straw blond hair and a sour face.

An angry harsh voice.

Devilled blue eyes.

Fist poised ready.

She struggled to hold off his act aimed at the professor.

It was entirely this baka's fault!

"You idiot! Stop that!"

Jerking up right, Hiroko found herself in the hold of her professor. He had seized her wrists. She trembled at the bewildering images swamping her consciousness thought.

"Calm yourself!"

She shrunk back in embarrassment. Papers lay strewn across the office floor. She had knocked them over as she collided with the desk. Lowering her eyes, she groaned at the scene she had caused.

_Oh God, let the world swallow me up! _She silently wished.

"Are you alright?" Professor Miyagi asked as he surveyed her strange demeanor. "Do you need to see the nurse?"

"No sensei." She bowed in apology. "I apologies, I believe I have been a little over-strained the last few days. The stress is affecting me."

The tall man's shadow continued to hang over her as he studied her chagrin cheeks. "Miss Komori, have we met previously?"

"I doubt it sensei," She stuttered thoughtlessly. "The only Miyagi-san I know is very tall, dark haired and… I am chattering on about nonsense. Ha ha ha."

A nervous laugh failed to hide her growing mortification.

The man before her froze. Tension hummed through his body as if he had seen a ghost. Hiroko raised an eyebrow at this strange response. The man before her promptly released her. He rustled papers around on his desk and collected sheets off the floor into a neat pile on a central table. Whether, he chose to ignore her idiosyncratic behavior or felt uncomfortable by it, she was grateful that her lecturer resumed normalcy.

"Here, Komori. All you class notes, reading list and first assignment are in this booklet and these papers are the list of class times I hold with Sensei Iato. Please be prompt to class."

"Arigatou gozaimasu, sensei."

"Douitashimashite, Komori-san." The blond professor nodded. "Please excuse me, I have urgent matters to attend to."

With a bow, she had departed.

Several chairs squeaked on the linoleum floor. The room was emptying as the lunch crowd dispersed. Lifting up the apartment catalogue, Hiroko resigned herself to the fact she could not afford dawdle any longer. The time read one o'clock on her watch. If she wanted to find a decent apartment before the other students snatched all the bargains; she would have to start immediately.

No rest for the wicked, she thought.

* * *

As the door closed behind the student, law professor, Shinobu Miyagi collapsed into his office chair. Astonishment written across his face. How on earth could this child know Miyagi? Resting his head in his hands, he nursed his confused thoughts. His head suddenly shot up. His expression agape. Dumbfounded as his mind placed the familiarity of the girl.

It could not be!

Grimacing, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

They were too similar for coincidence.

Was this another of destiny's practical jokes?

His mind conjured a mental image of his old enemy. Albeit, there were possibilities there were also differences. She was slender and stunningly attractive for a woman. Devoid of any evil glint in her eyes. Her nose was straighter, delicately feminine. The infamous lips not so fulminated. Could that slip of a girl really be the demon's spawn?

Or was his mind playing tricks?

Opening her file, Shinobu read for a moment. He pushed the document away disgusted. Hiroko. Was she named for a secret lover? Did Miyagi know this detestable secret?

How on earth could the demon have insulted and betrayed his partner like that?

Rebooting his computer, Shinobu calmly composed an email to his lover. His thoughts weighing heavily on a dear friend. Concern rose in his gut, a world might be shattered a second time if his suspicions were true.

_Oh God, please let me be mistaken._

* * *

Her feet hurt.

Four districts of Tokyo later, she was struggling to match an apartment to her price range and essential criteria. Slumping down top of a wall outside a family restaurant, she signed. A distance clock chimed the hour. Growling noises from her stomach reminded Hiroko of her hunger.

The restaurant behind her looked decent. Several young families were seated, eating various appetizing dishes. Wandering into the restaurant, she asked a waitress for a menu. A table stood in the corner by the window; an uncanny sense of déjà vu tickled her memory. She could not place this restaurant but in her heart, she knew she had visited her before. In this life or the past, the truth of memory remained elusive.

_No more funny business today!_ She reprimanded herself, recalling the foolishness she had indulged in her lecturer's office.

Clearing her head, she requested to be seated at the booth by the window. She ate a simple, delicious Ramon dish, while thumbing through her apartment brochure.

Several apartments tempted her interest.

In the bustle of the restaurant, she called the agents to request viewings. Several were closed. Leaving a message and her details, she asked for a return call in the coming days. Two offices were still trading. A curt woman assisted her to organise an appointment in two days to see a promising 1K mansion apartment in the district of Meguro. On paper, the apartment seemed too perfect. It came in under budget, housed in a reasonable distance from her family and possessed a delightful southeast aspect for plenty of sunshine.

Folding the booklet, she abandoned it to loose herself in reflection. She people-watched the world hurry by. Pondering each walker's mission and burdens.

Time passed; grey evening skies growled and threatened rain.

Constant tinkling from her phone forced her to return to the reality of the world. Around her the staff were commencing the end of the day routine; the floor was being mopped, chairs lifted off the floor and the kitchen staff were winding down service. Scrambling out her seat, Hiroko profusely apologized to the restaurant staff for loitering. Her waitress laughed in good humour as she took the yen bills.

"Don't worry about it." The waitress smiled reassuringly. "You looked like you had a lot on your shoulders. Feeling better?"

"A bit." She replied.

"Will you make it to the station alright?" The waitress asked handing back her change. "Kabukicho can sometimes be a little rough at night, especially if one of the gangs are feeling feisty."

"I am sure I'll be fine, the metro station is just around the corner. Hajimemashite."

"Arigatou gozaimasu, Sayonara."

Stepping into the cooling evening air, Hiroko looked around the busy street. At nine o'clock the sidewalk was coursing with pedestrians. Teenagers hung about chatting and playing with their phones. Couples could be seen walking hand in hand. Businessmen and women lumbered tiredly along. The local grocery store was humming with customers occupied with purchasing reduced bargains, bentos and convenience microwavable meals.

Turning a corner, Hiroko stood next to the opening of an alley. Glancing down the dim street, her instincts told her she could reach the station along this route. Down this dark side street was the longest route to the station.

She frowned.

How did she know that?

Her hand felt strangely warm as she stared at this odd corner of the world full of garage doors and graffiti…

If she walked down this passage, she would reach a shop with a red awning located by the rail bridge. Her instincts screamed defiantly that this was a doltish scheme. The prudent course of action would be the secure, well-lit route to the station.

On Fate's precarious selvage point, eleven words vibrated in her thoughts.

_Do what you have to do in order to find him._

A clear, fleeting memory surfaced. Warm pressure entwined around her fingers. Raising her hand, Hiroko breath hitched and the ache in her heart intensified.

Closing her eyes, a vision danced in her mind's eye.

A goofy smile adorned her gentle giant's face.

Pleasure danced in his eyes at this tiny surrender.

"_Hiro-san," he called to her softly._

Stepping forward, she reconciled herself to the mercy of Destiny

Fate collided two hearts, ensnaring them in the weave of their tangled string to forge precariously connection. Vibrations vacillated the courses of two individuals. Knotted threads unraveled; two worlds conjectured to miss each other at Kabukicho Station were consigned to brush. Reconnecting two paths in a moment of cosmic arbitration…


	7. Chapter Six

**Title: In This Life**

**By Darkestforever**

**Disclaimer:** All characters and rights of the Junjou Romantica world belong to Shungiku Nakamura and her publishers Blu. This fanfiction is written with no intention of earning any profit. It is for the sole purpose of free enjoyment for the Junjou Romantica fangirls and boys.

Author's note: Apologies to all my readers for the sudden changes. I was not completely satisfied with my recent updates. I decided therefore to address some of the unexplained jumps in my story. I hope it flows with more consistency now between chapters 6 and 7. If you kindly reviewed either chapter, please I encourage you to relist your thoughts, as they would have been erased when I uploaded the newer versions.

Thank you again for your ongoing support!

**Chapter Six: Falling Into Place (The Afters)**

The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible.

But they have never found these dangers sufficient reason

For remaining ashore.

~ Vincent van Gogh~

The old store with a shop with the red awning stood alone, abandoned to the ravages of time. The red acrylic sheet was torn. Tickled by the breeze it wafted in the cooling night air. A secret monument illustrating the change of time that separated the past and the present. Staring up at the fluttering canopy, dubiety slithered into the sempiternity regions of her heart.

Was her quest a foolish flight of fantasy?

Too often, she felt this doubt trouble her thoughts. As an impertinent teen, she neglected to consider life changes. Eighteen years had transformed this alley into a desolate space, trashed by time. The torn red awning was a metaphoric reminder that she inhibited an altered world.

A world where feelings could rewritten.

A clamorous crash spooked her.

Crude voices echoed in the passageway beyond the rail bridge.

The urge to flee rose in her.

A gang indolently sauntered the street. One criminally strutted along emptying a can of spray paint across the alley's walls. Others vested a keen interest in an unfortunately placed car. The crunch of glass signaled the pack had found prey. Electric wails succumb to the aggressive onslaught of the mob.

Tears prickled in her eyes.

The bitter memories of the good neighborhood that had been the precursor of this dilapidated pit rattled her memory. Her shoulders drooped defeat. Venturing forward would yield unnecessary trouble. Turning to leave, Hiroko bumped into a steely chest dressed in leather. Towering over her hundred and seventy three centimeters stood the owner of the torso that hindered her path. The brutish, bestial muzzle of the face, which peered down at her wore a malicious sneer. Shadowy salacious eyes profanely probed her person.

Snaking back, a sliver of trepidation unnerved her.

"Well, hello gorgeous." He smirked advancing on her. "Are you looking for a good time?"

"Don't touch me!" She hissed shrinking backwards.

"Play nice," he murmured frostily. "And you won't get hurt."

A hand shot out to ensnare her wrist.

Clammy fingers enclosed her flesh with a painful grip. Hiroko struggled against the vice-like hold of her captor. Their hustle wrangled the attention of his other odious comrades.

"Looks like your having problems wooing that filly." A voice interjected.

Group laughter rang out in the alley.

Four fierce faces surveyed her.

"Too much woman for you, Kato?"

"Screw you!" Her captor snarled.

"She's a fine looking piece of meat."

"This should be entertaining."

Her tumultuous heart beat pumped in fear.

Whilst her abductor was distracted she wrenched free of his hold.

Spinning velciously on her heels she fled.

Thunderous footsteps rang out the alley.

Frenetic, furious breaths heaved in her chest.

"Get that bitch!" A ferocious growl commanded.

Manic howls of laughter dogged her footfall.

Staggering through the dark unfamiliar territory, trepidation drove her onwards seeking the shelter in neon lit streets. Footsteps of her pursuers gained up her. Skidding sideways, she darted through a constricted gap in a wire fence. A paw of her predator swiped at the thin air she escaped from.

Growling, he leapt up to climb the panel in pursuit.

Agilely retreating, she dashed onto the main street. Narrowly avoiding clashing with pedestrians, she continued to sprint desperately. Cries of annoyance echoed as she carelessly, blundered against the natural ebb and flow of the sidewalk traffic. Piqued, indignant voices provided a breadcrumb trail for her stalkers to track her.

Without thought, she leapt perilously into the road.

Car horns stridulously screeched.

Wayfarers of walkway wailed and whooped at the madness.

Dodging bonnets, Hiroko tergiversated the tarmac road.

Her mind raced: thoughts screaming in reparation over and over…

Reach the platform.

Safety with others.

Escape.

Stumbling up the station steps, she perched at the top listening to the echoey passages of purgatory she navigated. Sweat trickled down her brow; she stood waiting for reverberations of warning. No clink of the turnpike sounded out in the cool underground world. Glancing down the platform, she studied her companions waiting for the next train.

Several commuters stood curiously observing the attractive disheveled young woman, panting harshly at the entranceway. Two high school girls clutched oddly shaped cases of musical instruments. A couple stood twitterpated on the concourse. A young child laughed. A middle-aged woman cast a condescending, cursory peek towards her.

Silence.

Her heart rated reposed itself.

With one step further onto the platform, a sound turned her blood to ice.

Thud of lumbering, beefy boots.

Calamitous crow of the approaching gang.

An authoritative voice boomed from the depths.

Frightful faces stared at the hell mouth from where a chilling commotion carried. The mother clasped her hands over her child's ears to hide the bloodcurdling shrieks of the station guard. A station alarm was silenced. Disheartened passengers shivered. Each retreating to seek secret, shadowy corner.

Overhead, the automated voice announced the impending arrival of the cavalry.

Scared sepia orbs sprung to the arrivals board.

Ten minutes.

Adrenalin surged in her blood as the lumbering, galumphed strides drew closer to the stairs. A cold shiver descended her spine. She had to hide. Sprightly steps searched out a secluded spot at the end of the platform to shelter her.

Nine minutes.

Shielded behind the concrete pillar, Hiroko prayed. The goby gobble of the wild Boryokudan grew closer. Motivated by greed, the devious youths mounted the platform primed to terrorize the innocent and unleash their banditry.

Eight minutes.

Eerie creep of the phantasmal air signaled the impending locomotive.

Seven minutes.

Stationed behind a concrete pillar, she listened to the carnage.

Acrid voices exploited and extorted the vulnerable. Glimpsing around the curvature of column, she witnessed the vilified villainy as the gang snatched away valuables. The Boryokudan on the platform were a gang of five individuals. Dressed in dark, non-descript clothing, holding menacing weapons of two intimidating knives and crackling electric Taser. They stood threatening to shoot and shank the passengers. With malevolent coercion, they educed possessions from their owners.

Savage orbs gleamed with wicked bloodlust.

A gaunt, gangly youth riotously reached for the twitterpated man, headbutting him savagely in the face repeatedly.

Blood bespatters the ground.

Six minutes.

Clattering wheels were approaching.

Caterwauling of an injured woman peaked at her heart.

Guilt consumed her.

This was all her fault because of her egotism whim.

Urgent hails warned the pack of the encroaching train.

The alpha male snorted.

A venomous gaze set upon the young mother quivering with her sobbing child. Manically, he unsheathed his knife as he strode purposely towards distressed parent. Wide-eyed, she pleaded for protection and mercy. Petrified passengers watch in dismay, restrained from aiding her.

Snarling, he demanded. "Give me your purse lady!"

Boldly the woman spat at him.

Skirting around her pillar, there was one chance.

Temerity plucked at her pulse. Perspiration dampened her palms, as they clung tightly to the straps of her cumbersome rucksack. The leader stepped loomingly forward on his target. Pivoting quickly, Hiroko aimed her bag to clobber the face of the rapacious ruffian. Her prey distracted, she landed a further kogeki blow to disarm the knife from him.

The knife sheered away to the edge of the platform.

Five minutes.

Wheels of time cranked into motion…

"You little…." He growled. "Your gonna pay for that!"

In the commotion, the other gang members blinked in astonishment of the bold action of the slip of the girl dancing with their leader. A couple of the gang pushed back their hostages to distill any emboldened hope. Another individual stepped forward to assist his boss, only to be shouted down.

"Stay there!" The leader barked. "I can handle this baita!"

A glint of a penknife was her only warning of the attack. Shifting sideways, her attacker missed his intended target. Fingers snatched at her hair, dragging her into close contact with him. Vicious words were whispered into her ear. She struggled against his hold. Pain sliced through her cheek as cool steel connected with her. Trickles of blood meandered down the contours of her face.

In retaliation her foot connected with his shin. The scuffle continued briefly. Biting, scratching and kicking: she fought with all the feistiness she could muster. Seizing his wrist, she threw her weight into disarming him. He slapped her hard as she knocked the penknife from his hand. Her head hit the floor with a crunch. Dazed, the world and her vision wobbled.

"You're a tough manko." Her assaulter callously pronounced as he grasped her chin forcing her to look him eye. "Shame I didn't catch you in the alley, I would've enjoyed teaching you a harsher lesson."

Four minutes.

Thrusting her back, he turned to reclaim his fallen knife.

"NO!"

The electronic clattering chatter of the Taser rang out…

Terrified shrieks and shouts cried out in chaos…

Lights in the dark tunnel unnerved the gang…

Three minutes.

A vicious hand grasped her…

She clawed at her attacker with fierce strength…

A knee collided with her stomach winding her…

Agony imploded from the back of her head.

Two minutes.

The world spun again…

Blurriness crept into her vision…

Queasiness spun from the pit in her stomach…

Angry voices…

"Boss! We gotta go!"

One minute.

Gush of cool air.

Echoing heavy footsteps retreated.

The usual routine commute was exorbitantly eventful that evening.

Drawing into the Kabukicho station, the metro train arrived to a scene of blood, violence and savagery. The maladroitly of the moment astonished, scandalized and traumatized the alighting passengers.

A flurry of activity animated the platform.

The conductor and driver disembarked to pursue the absconding assailants.

Several passengers rushed to assist the injured.

Strangers poured out round her…

One Good Samaritan, a dark-haired doctor greeted two young women and a hysterical child. He crouched down to examine each member of the small group. The mother and child were shaken, but unharmed. Turning to access the extent of the dazed brunette's injuries.

A distant voice addressed her.

"Miss? Miss? Can you hear me?" The doctor spoke softly in a reassuring tone. "I am doctor…"

That voice.

Symptoms of concussion were apparent in her profile from the confounded countenance and hints of hesitation. A painful laceration marred her cheek. Spit spots of blood dripped to ground. The other woman eased a clean tissue from her handbag for him. Thanking her, the good doctor returned to address his patient. Easing her jaw upwards, the doctor and patient's gaze met.

A disbelieving utterance fell from her lips.

"_Nowaki?"_

The doctor's eyes grew wide in surprise.

The Good Samaritan was staggered by the young woman's breathy remark. Beguiling cobalt orbs were transfixed by the disorientated tawny eyes that collided with his. Her eyes flittered across his features in a loving assessment.

"_Nowaki?" _she murmured deliriously to the darkness.

How did she know him?

Cinnamon sepia eyes grew confused and opaque.

Slumping forward, she collapsed into him. Reacting swiftly, the doctor caught his mysterious lady. Cautiously, he observed the cataleptic form in his arms. Young, slender and strikingly beautiful. Brushing locks of her short hair from her face, his heart twinged as he noted a resemblance of the person he had once loved. Drawing her to rest against his chest, his heart throbbed bizarrely.

Dabump.

Dabump.

Dabump.

His mind cast back to a distance moment of the past. A vision of that first moment he met his adorable lover. Startled, distraught teary sepia eyes met and married his ocean blue. The fizzle of electricity in the glance. The curious tightening and erratic rhythm of his pulse. His brows furrowed thoughtfully, as he leant in closer to study the young woman in his arms.

How on earth did she know his name?

_To be continue…_


	8. Chapter Seven

**Title: In This Life**

**By Darkestforever**

**Disclaimer:** All characters and rights of the Junjou Romantica world belong to Shungiku Nakamura and her publishers Blu. This fanfiction is written with no intention of earning any profit. It is for the sole purpose of free enjoyment for the Junjou Romantica fangirls and boys.

**Author's Note: This is a revised chapter seven. Chapter eight will be uploaded shortly.**

Thank you to all my readers who took the time to review the last chapters. Maggie Mae from Penny Lane, Galaxya, X, Lucicelo, Reficular and all the unsigned reviewers who left a message, I would like to dedicate this chapter to you.

**Chapter Seven: Under the Moonlight (Travis)**

Wait for me by moonlight,

Watch for me by moonlight,

I'll come to thee by moonlight,

Though hell should bar the way.

~ Alfred Noyes ~

Moonlight blazed through the window.

In the ghostly recesses of the night, a Good Samaritan stood guard over a pale sleeping beauty. She lay ashen and fragile against the cold, white linen of the hospital bed. Lucid, dark bruises blemished the soft, creamy tone of her skin. Thin adhesive strips pinched together the laceration that marred her cheek. A further small dressing covered the shallow cut at her temple. Despite her battle wounds, this brave beauty was still an astonishing angelic sight.

Leaning in close, he examined her face in intimate detail.

Her eyes lids fluttered as she slept.

He drew in a gasp of breath.

Would she wake to his inspective gaze?

Anxious seconds ticked by.

Long dark brown eyes lashes resettled on high pale cheekbones. Peace returned to her slumbering form. Releasing his breath, he continued his tender exploration. The contours of her face mirrored and mimicked the profile he had lovingly memorized as it slept on the pillow beside him. The shape appeared daintier and more delicately rounded in this specimen. Her nose was straighter, with a peppering of tiny summer freckles. Soft, full lips adorned her face; they were slightly darker in colour, but possessed the same shape that the lips of his lover. Lips that he had kissed countless times. Strangely, this masquerading face lacked the cruelty that commonly had berated, denounced, and fumed from his lover's lips.

His finger slipped in the velvety strands of her hair. She possessed same thick, soft mane. The hues of the locks were paler. A somber sorrel tone rather than his lover's dark brunet. He adoringly stroked his fingers through her hair.

Closing his eyes, he selfishly allowed himself to imagine their old bedroom. The red digits on the alarm clock read an obscure, ungodly hour. Hiro-san lay slumbering in the confines of their bed. The scent of books, fresh soap and the pert fragrance of tea tree oil shampoo washed over him.

Tears gathered in his dark cobalt eyes.

Pain choked his heart.

Glancing at his watch, he noted the late hour.

Her family would arrive shortly.

A lugubrious smile tugged his lips, as he brushed his fingers through her hair once last time. He sighed wistful at the enchanting esthetic that lay before him. Deep yearning quivered in his heart. Leaning forward, he breathed in the piquantly sweet scent that clung to her skin. She smelt like titillating taste of honey-baked apples. Disappointment trickled into his heart. Lifting her hand, he pressed a gentle kiss into the palm.

It was a guilty act of selfish indulgence that defied every medical protocol. Love permeated through the brush of his lips. Silent secret words murmured against the skin of this strange double of his lost lover.

Ominous footsteps clattered down a distance corridor. He riskily toyed with jeopardy from an augural audience by delaying his departure. Releasing her hand, he collected his white coat and stethoscope from the back of the chair.

Unnoticed, a single stray item fluttered free from his pocket.

It settled silently, under the vacant space beneath the bedside chair. The shadows disguised the lost item from his sight. Lost, a grumpy brunet and a beaming black-haired couple lay in wait for the morning's discoveries.

Casting a final glance at the alluring angel who lay dreaming in the bed, he departed.

A single thought echoed in his thoughts.

_In the moonlight, they were almost indistinguishable._

* * *

Hiroko dreamt under an endless starry sky.

Her nameless companion guided her to this special place. Amongst the desolate trees, he led her through the coppice of tenebrous trees. Wraith-like fingers of the branches clambered towards the heavens. Gnarled digits tried to snatch the elusory luminous orbs from indigo curtain of night. Out of the darkness, the great silver moon began its ascent into the heavens. Pearly light polished the earth with an otherworldly glow. The claws of the forest recoiled in the lustrous illumination to reveal a secret window at the heart of the woods.

Her guide drew into the auroral opening.

The world stood still here.

This was a gateway to a changeling realm.

Above the glistening starry sky floated among all the trees.

In this alien place, a strange sense of familiarity stirred.

"Why am I here?" She asked with breathy wonder.

"You are here to remember."

A strange quiescence descended over the earth in this ethereal place. Her senses were overwhelmed with esoteric sensations. Sound ceased. In the stillness, silence learnt to extrude a mysterious melody of its own devising. The tone was sharp and crisp to the ears. Hauntingly sublime to the hearing. The smell of the air was sharp, clean and earthy. Drawing a deep breath into her chest, her taste buds tingled at the piquant tartness of the air. Her cheeks tingled in the brisk rawness of the night.

The aura of this place was wintry.

Her guide spoke.

His words sounded alien and outlandish to her ears.

"Lie down."

Lying in the lush dewy grass, she smiled.

She found incredible peace in the emptiness of the moment.

Bedazzled by the intricate beauty of the changeling place, she forgot her purpose in this

Few sporadic words were uttered between the pair as they lay in the company of the floating heavens. They listened to the melodious aria of silence as they basked in the moonlight. Two pairs of sepia eyes scanned different sectors of the celestial empyrean searching for a sign. They admired the grandeur of each constellation of the sky. None of the countless shapes or figure felt obliged to disclose the secret purpose of her presence in this place.

An electric cobalt star soared across the sky.

Distant noises disturbed her.

Closing her eyes, she focused on one echoey chord.

It was the ghostly voice, flavored with sweet love and gentle kindness. The sound oozed tender warmth from every syllable. Hidden in the tone, a sensation of lascivious delight flickered.

"Why did I come here again?" She asked her companion.

"I brought you show you this view." He answered.

"It is beautiful." She murmured.

"I always believed so."

Confused by a sensation of loss stirring in her heart. She stared up to the radiant view of the moon hoping for an answer to her silent question. In this perfection of this moment, why did misery stir in the deepest reaches of her soul?

A piece was missing.

"Something is missing."

"I know." Her brown haired companion smiled up to the stars. "That's why you are with me to remember."

An image danced in her sight.

A tunnel of green, blue and white suspended on high.

Turning to her former self, she smiled.

The cinnamon browned eyed man watched her. "Have you remembered?"

"I remember this my secret hideaway." She said.

"That's right."

"I remember, wanting to come back here." She whispered as a distance distorted image dribbled into her memory. "I wanted to share more of myself with him: my family, my childhood and my secret place. "

The tickets had been clandestinely concealed in the tome of his thesis. His lover rarely scrolled through the literary periodicals and publications stashed upon his shelves, therefore it had been the perfect hiding place. Every evening for a month, he had eagerly examined the documents in secrecy. Feverishly, he had counted down to the felicitous moment.

Dark sepia eyes considered her gravely. "He won't believe us."

She reservedly studied her companion. "I'll find a way to convince him."

"You will need assistance." The brown haired man told her.

"Who?"

"I brought you here to remember." He repeated.

"A million facts stream through my head on a daily basis." She sighed frustrated by his answer. "What do you want me to recall specifically?"

A slight smile twitched at his stern lips. "The answer will come to you."

"You are so exasperating!"

A chortle of laugher escaped her companion. "I am merely a figment of your subconscious."

The figment of her imagination rose to his feet; then offered his hand out to her. Accepting the cold flesh, Hiroko clambered to stand beside her guide. Beyond the crowded copse of trees, streaks of red, orange and pink dusted the horizon. The dawn was coming.

Shadowy sounds of the real world intruded upon her repose.

She would awake soon.

One last thing troubled her.

"It was him at the metro station wasn't it?" She asked.

"Yes."

"Will he be there when I wake up?" Hiroko asked, turning to study her companion.

"I don't know. "

A zealous sensation of warmth seeped into her skin. The cinnamon eyes of her companion studied his hand at the same moment in bewilderment. The perplexing phantom touch shattered the illusionary world around them. A strange tingling touch, lingered in her hand as the wakeful world returned to her.

* * *

Blinking in the lambent light of the moon, she woke alone.

Tedious tentacles of pain trickled down her cheek. Rowdy voices reverberated from the corridor. She could identify several tongues speaking beyond the door. The anxious accent of her aunt argued with the telltale recounting voice of a doctor. An excited proclamation revealed the presence of her best friend. She listened to the soft modulation of the chatter discussing the diagnosis of her injuries.

Propping herself up on her elbow, she studied the dark room. In the Erebus emptiness of the dark, she scanned the outline of the furniture. Parched dryness painful plagued her throat. Reaching forward with her free hand, she attempted to grasp the plastic cup of water perched on the bedside table. Her fingertips clumsy clasped the rim of the cylinder. Her concussed body trembled at the exertion of energy.

A squeak of shock escaped her lips.

The door swung open violently at the resounding crash and bleeping alarms triggered by her topple from the bed. Three figures swarmed to her rescue. Reassuringly, they encouraged her to sit up. Drawing back, her fingers found the shiny surface of a rectangular object under the recess of the chair. Hooking her hold on the item, she tightly scrunched it in her fist, drawing it close to her. Distant voices fussed over her. Hysteric hands lifted her back onto the bed. Securely, she was tucked into the snug safety of the bed. A nurturing nurse administered considerate care to her. Fresh water was dispatched for. They fostered fuss upon her, until she faked sleep to seek sanctum in the penumbra of the night.

The moon alone bore witness, as she unfolded the peculiar item she had discovered.

Sententious tears spilt from her astonished cinnamon eyes.

The argent glow of the moonlight radiated upon a most beloved face.

Beaming brightly from photograph was her Nowaki.

**To be continued…**


End file.
